


Go Live Some Apple Pie Life

by genevra1676



Series: The Monster That You Know [4]
Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Awesome Bobby Singer, Awesome Jody Mills, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Sex, Creature Dean, Crossover, Curtain Fic, Dean in Heat, Dean in Makeup, Dean in Panties, Domestic Bliss, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Food Sex, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Happy Dean, Happy Ending, Happy Sam, Hellhounds, Helpful Crowley, Honeymoon, Hot Tub Sex, House Hunting, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Feminization, Lingerie, M/M, Manticore (Dark Angel), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester, Panty Kink, Post-Season/Series 05, Psychic Dean, Psychic Sam, Rimming, Romance, Settling Down (Sort of), Sex Toys, Shifter Dean Winchester, Shower Sex, Weddings, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-05 03:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 105,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevra1676/pseuds/genevra1676
Summary: The Apocalypse is over, and the boys are finally getting the happy ending they deserve--wedding, honeymoon, house, and more.  They then have to figure out how to balance hunting with house hunting, renovations, regular jobs, and the other trappings of that elusive apple-pie life . . .





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up a few months after the previous story in this series, which ended with my version of 5.22 Swan Song. Sam and Dean are finally getting their happily ever after, so this story is going to be mostly fluff and smut with bits of plot thrown in. Nothing dark or sad in this fic, I promise! :)
> 
> Standard disclaimer: The words in this story are mine, but the setting and characters belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, et al.

I swore at my reflection and pulled my tie apart for what felt like the fiftieth time.  I was quite familiar with basic tie knots, like the four-in-hand, as part of our FBI disguises.  However Dean and I decided that for this special occasion, we should use something fancier.  So I downloaded step-by-step instructions for the Eldredge knot and practiced dutifully until I thought I’d mastered it.  But today of all days, it seemed like I was all thumbs!

“Calm down, Sam.  It’s not the end of the world,” Jody’s amused voice said from behind me.  “Which _you_ should know better than anyone!”

“Dammit, I practiced this goddamn knot for _days_!  What the hell is wrong with me!”

“Sam Winchester, it is perfectly _normal_ to be nervous on your wedding day!  Here, let me try.”  She put a hand on my shoulder and turned me to face her.  She looked over the directions and deftly knotted the tie. 

“There!  I used to help Sean get dolled all the time when he had to attend formal functions for work.  Take a look at yourself now.”  She carefully tucked the ends of the tie into my vest and patted my chest before stepping away.

I studied my reflection in the full-length mirror to make sure everything was in place.  My current outfit was a far cry from the cheap suits we used while hunting.  Now I was dressed in a modern-fit, wool and silk blend black tuxedo with peaked lapels.  The pleated cotton shirt underneath was also black with onyx studs, while the solid silk vest and silk brocade tie were a deep blue.  Black patent leather dress shoes completed the ensemble.  The silver cufflinks made from antique devil’s trap amulets were a gift from Bobby, while the sapphire blue silk pocket square used to belong to Jody’s husband.  All in all, this getup probably cost more than twice the combined value of the rest of my wardrobe.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” I asked anxiously.

Dean was insisting on the whole ‘not seeing each other before the ceremony’ nonsense, so I hadn’t seen him since falling asleep last night.  In addition, neither of us knew exactly what the other was wearing—we’d selected our formal wear separately.  Jody was the only one who knew what both of us had picked out, since she’d come along with each of us for support and advice. 

“You look _incredible_.  Dean’s going to be absolutely gobsmacked when he sees you,” she assured me.  “Where’s your boutonnière?”

“The botanical garden is providing them.  We’ll pick them up when we get there.”  I looked at my watch and sighed.  We didn’t need to leave for another ten minutes, which gave me ample time to indulge in a case of nerves.

When Dean first proposed to me, right after we’d locked Lucifer back in the Cage, I was ecstatic, and of course I said, “Yes.”  But after the euphoria died down, worry set in.  We were two men together at a time when marriage between same-sex couples was legal in very few places.  More importantly, we were brothers, which was illegal _everywhere_.  Getting married seemed a beautiful fantasy, but the reality wasn’t so simple.

Fortunately, my older brother had already put some thought into the matter.  He’d researched and discovered that one of the six places where gay marriage was currently legal was Iowa, which was practically next door to Sioux Falls.  Through Bobby, he got in touch with Frank Devereaux to have new false IDs made, which Frank swore would be even better than those used by the Federal Witness Protection Program.  Thus the names that appeared on our marriage license were not Sam and Dean Winchester, but instead Dean Smith and Sam Wesson.

I was initially surprised when he insisted on a proper wedding, as I’d assumed he’d be content with a no-frills elopement in front of a nearby justice of the peace.  Or perhaps something more outrageous, like the equivalent of a drive-through chapel in Vegas with an Elvis impersonator.  But I more than anyone should’ve known that Dean’s “no chick-flicks” outer demeanor was only a façade, that he felt things just as deeply as I did but wasn’t always as good at expressing them. 

“We’re only getting married once, so I wanna do this _right_ ,” was his response when I asked what he wanted.  “I ain’t looking for St. Paul’s Cathedral and a twenty-five-foot long train.  But we deserve something memorable, and I want our family and friends to be there.”

So we looked for a venue we liked somewhere in Iowa and chose Davenport after seeing the Hotel Blackhawk and the Vander Veer Botanical Park online.  We decided to invest in higher-quality tuxedos, both as keepsakes and because there wouldn’t always be another Gert around if we needed to get into a black-tie event again.  Dean handled most of the other arrangements and the finances as well.  I still wasn’t sure how exactly we were affording all this, even with saving most of our earnings from hustling and helping in the salvage yard for the past couple of months.  But he assured me that everything was covered.

We arrived in Davenport from Sioux Falls yesterday afternoon and checked into our deluxe room at the hotel.  Jody and Bobby accompanied us to the county courthouse to serve as witnesses at the civil ceremony in front of the magistrate, since our chosen officiant for the actual wedding couldn’t perform legal marriages (particularly since the government didn’t know that angels even existed).  We met Cas at the botanical park for a run-through of the next day’s ceremony, and then we all went to a local brew pub for burgers and drinks.  Afterward, Dean and I retired to our room, where we made love before falling asleep.

There was no sign of my brother when I woke up this morning, just a note on the hotel stationary that he was with Bobby and would see me this afternoon.  After ordering a continental breakfast through room service, I spent the morning first working out at the hotel fitness center and then going to the hotel spa for a massage, hot shave, and haircut.  I met Jody at the hotel restaurant for a leisurely lunch before returning to my room to get dressed.

The sheriff now poked me in the chest.  “Stop worrying, mister!  Everything is going to be _fine_.  The powers-that-be seriously owe you both, so someone upstairs ought to be looking out for you.  You’re going to have a gorgeous wedding today, and tomorrow you’ll leave for an equally fabulous honeymoon.  Where are you going, by the way?  With all the hubbub of the wedding planning, I don’t think either of you mentioned that.”

“Um, we actually don’t know,” I admitted.  “Cas told us not long after we got engaged that he received a message stating our honeymoon plans were being taken care of.  He told us to pack for two weeks at someplace warm, and that’s all we know so far.  According to the message, we’ll find out more after the ceremony.”

“Huh!  I guess we’ll see what he’s got planned later then.”  She picked up her clutch handbag, black satin with garnet beading to match her elegant burgundy gown.  “We should probably head out.  There’s no harm in arriving early, and you’re just going to stew if we wait here.”

I followed her out of the room.  “I want to thank you again for everything, Jody.  We wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without your assistance.  Weddings aren’t something either of us have had much experience in, and fancy stuff like this isn’t exactly Bobby’s forte either.”

“I’m always glad to help!  I was a bridesmaid or maid of honor so often before I got married myself that I almost could’ve been a wedding consultant.”  Jody laughed as we entered the elevator.  “Comes with having a big family, not to mention all the girlfriends from college and the police academy.”

“That’s the sort of normal, everyday stuff Dean and I missed out on.  We’ve only had each other—and Dad whenever he was actually around—and there never was much time for celebrations of any kind.”

The older woman put a hand on the side of my face, her eyes warm.  “Well, you have more family now.  And maybe you two can slow down a bit to enjoy life more, seeing as you don’t need to save the world anymore.”

“That _would_ be nice, though I don’t know if Dean will go for it.  Then again, the break we’ve been taking now was his idea, so . . .”  I shrugged.  “I suppose I’ll have to find out what he thinks after we get through all this wedding and honeymoon stuff.”

The past nearly three months since we averted the Apocalypse was the longest hiatus we’d had since I left Stanford.  The closest to hunting we’d gotten was helping Bobby with research and accompanying him on two cases that were too big to sit idle for.  Planning for the wedding obviously took up some of our time, but the rest we did what we wanted with for a change.  We went to concerts and sporting events, visited museums and sightseeing attractions, and sometimes just hung out and lazed about.  This was something we both _sorely_ needed after how hard the previous few years had been, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about returning to our old lifestyle after this.

“Well, I’m sure you boys will work it out.  And you know you can turn to me and Bobby and the rest of your friends if needed,” she said as we got into her car.  “But for now, the only things I want you to be thinking about are enjoying yourself today and for the next two weeks!”

***

Jody and I parked near the main entrance to the botanical garden and stopped by the conservatory to pick up my boutonnière and her corsage of red and white roses.  We then walked down the stately Grand Allée to the Rose Garden, where we met Dean and Bobby in front of the center fountain.

I had to pause once I got a good glimpse of my fiancé—he looked _stunning_.  His slim-fit tuxedo was light grey wool with a shawl lapel and cutaway hem, his pique-front shirt was white with mother-of-pearl studs, and his silk vest and brocade tie were dark green.  His shoes, cufflinks, pocket square, and boutonnière matched mine.  His dark gold hair, which he’d grown out a bit and swept to the side, gleamed in the afternoon sun, and the colors of his outfit made his large green eyes stand out.  He was clean-shaven, which made him look younger and accentuated his high cheekbones, full mouth, sharp jaw, and freckled skin.

His eyes widened in turn as he caught sight of me.  “ _Damn_ , you cleaned up good, sweetheart!  Gotta get you dressed up like this more often,” he purred.

“Not as good as you!  Everyone is going to be envious today that their husband isn’t as gorgeous as _mine_.”  I kissed his lips reverently.

“Dammit, I’m gonna need an insulin shot if this keeps up!” Bobby groused, though his fond eyes belied his tone. 

I eyed the older hunter in his black suit and burgundy vest and tie (which _coincidentally_ matched Jody’s dress).  “You’re not looking too bad yourself, old man.”

“Watch it, boy!  Don’t think I won’t take you over my knee, big day or not!  You two better be ready—Cas wants to start as soon as you’re both here.  Jody, shall we?”  He offered her an arm and escorted her around the fountain to where the other guests were seated.

As Dean and I waited, he looked up at me through the fringe of his long lashes.  _This is it!  You ready, darling?_

 _I don’t know,_ I admitted nervously.  _This feels bigger than anything else we’ve done, even facing down Azazel or Lucifer.  But I have absolutely_ no _regrets about any of this!_

_Neither do I, Sammy.  You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m looking forward to telling that to everyone else._

At that moment, the four-piece quartet we’d hired began to play Nino Rota’s _Love Theme_ from _Romeo and Juliet_.  (After a lengthy disagreement, we’d compromised with my choice of music for the wedding and his for the reception.)  We paced around opposite sides of the fountain, took hands on the far side, and slowly walked under a long trellis supported by stone pillars, past where our guests were seated on cast iron benches between the pillars.

Our guest list was necessarily quite small, since it was limited to not only those who knew our real identities, but also those who accepted the true nature of our relationship.  Besides Bobby and Jody, both Missouri Moseley, the psychic who’d first introduced our father to the supernatural and later taught Dean and I how to control our abilities, and Melissa Choi, the doctor who’d become the _de facto_ medic for hunters in the Sioux Falls area, were there.  Seated next to Missouri was Bobby’s old friend and frequent hunting partner Rufus Turner, who’d found out about us when Bobby accidentally let slip about our wedding plans.  Fortunately, he was fairly blasé about the revelation, remarking that what consenting adults did in the privacy of their bedrooms was none of his concern.

Also present was Garth Fitzgerald IV, who was decidedly the _oddest_ hunter I’d ever known.  We met him on one of the hunts we’d helped Bobby with recently, in which he called in hunters from all over to take down a massive vampire nest in Boulder, Colorado.  He ended up spending time at Bobby’s house recovering from his injuries, and it wasn’t long before he figured out what was going on between my brother and me.  Despite his quirky and sometimes bumbling behavior, Garth turned out to be probably the most laid-back and open-minded person I’d met in my life.  He was not only understanding of our relationship but also thought it was really sweet.  He ended up being like that goofy cousin that you didn’t want to admit you loved to hang with.

The most unexpected guest was Crowley, our erstwhile ally in the fight against Lucifer.  Once the Devil was locked up again in the Cage, we assumed we wouldn’t hear from the self-proclaimed King of the Crossroads again.  However, he kept showing up wherever we were on an almost regular basis, seemingly just to chat.  We eventually figured out that he was simply _lonely_ —apparently he thought other demons made lousy company.  When he heard about our upcoming nuptials, he insisted on attending, and we couldn’t refuse him.  We still didn’t trust him—we knew he’d easily turn on us if it suited his purposes—but it was hard not to like the charming bastard.

At the far side of the trellis waited Castiel, wearing a white suit and his ubiquitous blue tie.  His dark hair was tamed for a change, his clean-shaven face was calm, and his bright blue eyes were smiling.  We stopped in front of him, still holding hands, and waited for the music to finish.

“Friends, we are gathered today to formalize the union between Dean and Sam,” the angel began in his resonant voice once there was silence.  “God’s laws are not man’s laws.  He does not care for gender or race or any of the other taboos society tries to impose on who should or should not be together.  What matters to him is love, pure and simple—the love between spouses, between parent and child, between siblings, between friends, and the love we all share for our fellow man. 

“My father made these two men soulmates because he knew the love they shared could overcome all obstacles.  This love enabled them to not only save the world more than once but also to save each other over and over.  It allowed them to withstand adversities most people couldn’t even imagine, because they always had each other.  Thus it is only fitting that they come together today to proclaim their love before us all.”

Dean turned to face me and took my other hand in his.  “You know I ain’t great with talking about my feelings.  But . . . Sammy, you’ve been the most important thing in my life since you were first put into my arms.  Taking care of you was never a chore—it often was the highlight of what wasn’t an easy childhood.  Watching you grow up strong and smart and good made everything I had to go through worth it though.  And seeing the kinda man you turned into, it ain’t a big surprise that I fell hard for you.

“Most people won’t understand why we’re together and will try to say it’s wrong.  But _you’re_ what makes my life worth living.  Having you by my side is what’s gotten me through all the dark, difficult crap that’s been thrown at us, and it makes enjoying the good times we’ve had even better.  You’re my _everything_ —my kid, my brother, my best friend, my partner, my lover.  I can’t imagine being anywhere else but with you, and I wanna spend the rest of my life as your husband.”

I took a deep breath and met my brother’s eyes.  “Dean, you’ve always been there for me.  You raised me, protected me, and taught me how to be a good, honorable man.  You had the strength to let me go when I needed to get away, to sacrifice yourself to save my life, and to forgive me when I hurt you.  You’ve been there for me from when I took my first steps, through when I thought I’d lost everything, and even when I made the worst mistakes of my life.  Despite what I’ve done, you opened your heart to me and offered me everything—your hopes, your dreams, your love, your very soul.

“There’s no way I can ever make up for what you’ve given me, but I want to devote my life to trying.  I want to shelter you the way you’ve always protected me, to take care of you the way you’ve always looked after me, to offer you everything I can because you gave up everything for me.  I want to love and cherish you the way you’ve always deserved, I want to prove to you that you’re the brave, smart, kind, _awesome_ man who’s always been my hero, and I want to spend the rest of my life as your husband.”

By the time I finished speaking, we both had tears in our eyes.  We’d said similar things to each other before, but never with an audience, in front of all our loved ones.  From out of the corner of my eye, I could see several of our guests wiping at damp eyes as well.

Castiel reached into his jacket pocket and brought out two rings.  Dean originally wanted to use the silver ring he’d always worn since he was a teen as his wedding ring and have a copy made for me.  I appreciated the sentimentality of using something that had belonged to Mom and been given to him by Dad.  However, I was adamantly against the material symbol of our love also being something that caused him constant pain.  So we had two replicas made in platinum, and the original now hung around his neck on the same leather thong as the brass amulet I’d given him years ago.

Cas held out one of the rings and looked at Dean.  “Dean, do you vow to love, honor, and cherish this man above all others, to always treat him with honesty, fidelity, and loyalty, throughout this life and the afterlife?”

“I do.  With this ring, I pledge to put you before everyone else, to stand by you through thick and thin, to be the other half of your soul for all eternity.”  Dean slid the ring onto my finger.

The angel offered the other ring to me.  “Sam, do you vow to love, honor, and cherish this man above all others, to always treat him with honesty, fidelity, and loyalty, throughout this life and the afterlife?”

“I do.  With this ring, I pledge to put you before everyone else, to stand by you through thick and thin, to be the other half of your soul for all eternity.”  I placed the ring onto my fiancé’s finger.

“I pronounce these two wed in the eyes of God and man.  Let no person or creature attempt to sunder this union, which is now under Heaven’s blessing and protection.  We wish upon you both a life of harmony and joy together,” Cas announced loudly.  He then leaned forward and continued in what he obviously thought was a surreptitious voice, “I believe this is where you are supposed to kiss.”

As people chuckled behind us, Dean and I each placed a hand on the side of the other’s face.  We looked into each other’s eyes for a moment before exchanging a deep kiss.  We then turned to face our guests, smiling.

Castiel concluded with, “I now present Sam and Dean to everyone here as husbands, soul mates, and partners in all ways.  Please join me in bidding them well as they embark upon this new phase of their lives together.”

Garth shot to his feet.  “Let’s hear it for these guys!  WOO!”  Most of the guests around him laughed and clapped.

Before anyone else could speak, a voice called out from the direction of the fountain, “Hey everybody!  Did I miss all the fun?”

All of our heads whipped around towards the other end of the trellised walkway.  Standing there in a cream-colored suit and light blue shirt with the collar popped open, a large red lollipop in one hand, was the archangel Gabriel.  He smiled ingratiatingly under our stares.

“What?  Is this a bad time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That darn Gabriel! :D
> 
> The hotel they're staying at & using for their reception is here (http://www.hotelblackhawk.com/), and the site for their wedding is here (http://www.cityofdavenportiowa.com/egov/documents/1481152720_76247.pdf). Please note that I have never been to Davenport, IA, so everything described here is the product of Google-fu and my imagination.
> 
> Oh, and this is a handy infographic I found for determining the status of gay marriage in the past (http://graphics.latimes.com/usmap-gay-marriage-chronology/).
> 
> This story isn't complete yet, though I do have ~10 chapters done and am banging away at more. I'm not sure yet exactly how long this will end up running, so the chapter count may change. I'm going to try posting new chapters on Fridays and see how that works with my schedule. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos are highly appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys deal with Gabriel and enjoy their reception and wedding night . . .

“Brother?  You—you’re _alive_!” Castiel gazed wide-eyed at the other angel.

Bobby stood and demanded indignantly, “Who the _hell_ are you?  And whaddya think you’re doing, interrupting a goddamn _wedding_?”

“Sorry, forgot that most of you haven’t met me!  The name’s Gabe,” Gabriel replied airily.  “I had to stop by to help these crazy kids celebrate their big day!”

“Gabriel?  As in the bloody _archangel_?” Crowley asked, looking perturbed.

Gabriel shrugged and tried to walk closer.  His face became momentarily nonplussed as he encountered the protective barrier I’d quickly raised between him and everyone else.  The archangel _had_ helped us the last time we’d met him, but he’d been an unpredictable and dangerous opponent in his role as the Trickster in our other encounters.  Needless to say, I trusted him even _less_ than I trusted our friend the crossroads demon.  I had no idea if my shield could withstand the full might of an archangel, one unencumbered by a failing temporary vessel or suppressing magic.  But Dean immediately bolstered it, and I was prepared to call on Cas, Missouri, and possibly even Crowley for assistance if needed.

“Listen, I ain’t here to cause any problems, honest,” Gabriel said, dropping his usual flippant expression.  “I really _am_ here to enjoy the wedding.  These guys saved the fucking world, and I wanna show them a little appreciation!  I’m the one that sent Castiel the message about your honeymoon, you know.”

I glanced over at Dean.  _What do you think?  Do you buy what he’s saying?_

 _I dunno.  He helped us once in a pretty big way, but most of the time the dude’s been a_ giant _douchebag.  Cas?_

 _I understand your apprehension.  But as far as I can tell, my older brother_ is _telling the truth right now,_ the seraph responded.

I dropped the shield and took a step forward.  “We’ll take your word at face value for now, Gabriel.  But we won’t hesitate to take you down again if you try to cause _any_ mischief here.  Understand?”

“ _No problemo, amigo_!  Like I said, I’m just here to help!  Lemme start by taking care of the civilians before their heads explode.  Don’t worry, I’m just gonna adjust their memories a tad.”  He indicated the musicians and photographer, who were staring dumbfounded.  He snapped his fingers, and their faces cleared.

Dean stepped up beside me.  “Whaddya mean ‘bout the honeymoon?”

“I’ll tell you at the reception—I don’t wanna derail the wedding any further.  But I promise, you’re gonna _love_ it!”

We looked at each other and shrugged.  At that, our friends rushed up to my husband and I to offer their congratulations, as the musicians began playing Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony, Third Movement.  Afterwards, we left our guests to mingle while we went with the photographer to take pictures around the botanical park.  The wedding photographer was Jody’s idea—she pointed out that we’d want more than cellphone photos to commemorate the occasion.  The young woman we’d hired, who’d already captured numerous pictures of the ceremony, took various poses of the two of us together, separately, and with Cas, Bobby, and Jody.  Per our instructions, she kept the shots as natural as possible—neither of us were interested in the clichéd images found in most wedding albums—and finished before Dean could get bored or impatient.

We then left the park to return to the Hotel Blackhawk for the reception.  Dean had actually let someone decorate the Impala with silk flowers and a “Just Married” sign in the rear windshield, though he drew the line at tying cans to the bumper.  We left first, with the others following behind in a small procession.

As we waited at the first red light, my brother leaned over and brushed his lips against mine.  _You happy, baby boy?_

 _God, yes!  Today has been unbelievable!  I feel giddy over using the word_ husband _now instead of fiancé or boyfriend,_ I answered enthusiastically.

 _I know how you feel, kiddo!  This has gotta be the best day ever, and it ain’t over yet!  Though I gotta say, how_ weird _is our life that our wedding gets crashed by a fucking archangel?_

I snorted.  _I know, right?  Hopefully that’s the worst thing that happens today.  Though I_ am _nervous about his plans for our honeymoon, knowing his . . . unique sense of humor._

_He says he wants to help out, so hopefully it’s something awesome.  But if it turns out to suck ass, we’ll figure out an alternative—go to the Grand Canyon or find a nice beach or whatever._

Upon arriving at the hotel, we went up to the rooftop terrace, which overlooked the Mississippi River.  Since we were a relatively tiny party, the staff had pushed together a few square tables to make a single long table at one end of the terrace, covered with crisp white linens and set with gilt-edged china, gleaming silverware, and sparkling crystal.  A small bar was placed nearby, serving a selection of wine, beer, whiskey, and scotch.  The DJ was set up at the opposite end of the terrace and was already playing some of Dean’s favorite classic rock.  Benches and chairs for socializing lined the other two sides of the rooftop, with an open area in the middle for dancing.  Scattered throughout were red and white roses and candle lanterns.

My husband and I sat at the center of the table, facing the river, with our family and friends seated all around.  Waiters came around while everyone was settling in, pouring drinks and bringing trays of appetizers—crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, scallops, chicken croquets, and crostini. 

Once all our guests were seated and the salads had been served, Bobby got to his feet.  “If I can have a moment?  We all know why we’re here today.  I’ve known Dean and Sam since when they thought _See Spot Run_ was the height of literature, and I’d like to think I had a hand in how they turned out.  They’ve never had an easy life, not even when they were kids, and they’ve never had much.  But the one thing they’ve _always_ had is each other.  They’ve always watched out for and taken care of each other, and that’s helped them overcome everything they’ve faced—from rising above a lousy childhood to defeating the Prince of Darkness himself.  The love they have for each other really _is_ the kind you only expect to see in fairy tales.

“There’s gonna be plenty of people who won’t understand or accept Sam and Dean being together—because they’re both men, because they were raised together, because of what they each are.  I say those people can kiss my ass, ‘cause they ain’t got the right to criticize my boys!  These two risked everything to save the goddamn world, and they deserve as much happiness, peace, and satisfaction as they can find together.  I for one am ecstatic that they’ve come together like this today, and I hope everyone else is too.

“So I’d like you all to raise your glasses in a toast.  To Sam and Dean—may you never lie, steal, cheat, or drink.  But if you must lie, lie in each other’s arms.  If you must steal, steal away each other’s sorrows.  If you must cheat, cheat death because you can’t live without each other.  And if you must drink, drink in the moments that take each other’s breath away.”

Everyone lifted up their glasses and drank, and Dean and I leaned in to give each other a kiss.  The appetizers and salad plates were removed soon after and replaced with the main course.  Dean’s plate was a New York strip steak with glazed carrots and garlic mashed potatoes, while I had herb-roasted chicken with steamed vegetables and rice pilaf. 

Before we could start eating, Gabriel stood up.  “Hey again, everybody!  I’m gonna be quick here.  There’re _very_ few people who can make an angel feel ashamed of himself.  These guys, however, managed to pull me out of eons of hiding through their stubbornness, courage, and selflessness and made me see that I had to take a stand.  Now, most of my _charming_ relatives upstairs think it’s reward enough to leave y’all alone, which I’m sure you’re glad to see!  But I gotta do _more_ —these two put it all on the line to save our collective bacon, and I wanna do at least _one_ nice thing for ‘em to show my gratitude.

“So Sam and Dean, I’ve taken care of your honeymoon arrangements.  There’s a two-week reservation, all expenses paid, waiting for you at this _real_ swanky resort I know.  It’s on a secluded island in the Florida Keys, so Dean can take his best girl with him.  This place’s got it all—private bungalows, fine dining, pristine beaches, posh spa, and all kinds of tropical activities.  There’s ferry shuttle and sea plane services if you wanna visit other islands or the mainland while you’re there.  Oh, and it’s, um . . . supernatural friendly, so you won’t need to hide anything.  Don’t worry though—the resort has _very_ strict rules on acceptable behavior, so this ain’t gonna turn into a ‘working’ vacation.  I’ll take you there myself tomorrow to save on travel time.  Whaddya think?”  The archangel smiled ingratiatingly.

My husband and I looked at each other in surprise, and then Dean rose.  “We dunno what to say except thanks, man.  This is _way_ more than we expected.  We haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but we couldn’t have succeeded if you hadn’t gotten us outta that hotel and given us the info ‘bout the key.”

I got to my feet as well.  “We want to thank _everyone_ here.  You’ve all helped us at one point or another over the years, and we wouldn’t be here today without you.  Dean and I are especially grateful that you’re here with us now to celebrate this special day.  You’re our family, and we love you all.  Cheers!”

After everyone drank to this toast, Dean added, “That’s it for the speeches, folks!  Let’s enjoy the great food and the dessert coming up.  Then there’ll be plenty of timing for dancing and hanging out, ‘cause we got this terrace until midnight.  _Mangia_!”

We both sat down, as did Gabriel.  The conversation over the meal mostly revolved around catching up with what everyone had been doing since we’d last seen each other.  After the plates were taken away, the waiters brought out dessert.  Instead of a traditional wedding cake, we had several of Dean’s favorite types of pie—apple, cherry, blueberry, chocolate, and pecan—with ice cream or whipped cream as accompaniments.  Gabe in particular fell to with gusto, and the only thing keeping my brother from trying to match him in pie consumption was the realization that eating himself sick on his wedding night was a _bad_ idea.

Once everyone’d had at least one slice of pie, we all got up and spread out to the terrace seating and dance floor.  Dean and I had the traditional first dance as a married couple to Led Zeppelin’s _Thank You_ , and then we each took turns dancing with Jody, Missouri, and Melissa.  Between dances, we tried to spend time talking with each of our friends.  There was an unspoken conspiracy among the two of us, Melissa, and Garth to arrange for Bobby and Jody to dance or sit together as often as possible.  And even Castiel and Crowley each got pulled onto the dance floor on more than one occasion.

Dean disappeared sometime after eleven o’clock, whispering in my ear before he left that he had preparations to take care of in our room.  I fell into a discussion with the other hunters there, reminiscing about the weirdest cases we’d ever had.  This led in turn to some mostly good-natured ribbing of Gabriel, since he featured prominently in several of my strangest tales.  The archangel gave back as good as he got while indulging in yet another piece of pie.

It was maybe half an hour or so later that I felt my husband’s thoughts brush against mine.  _Say goodnight to everyone, Sammy.  Got a nice surprise for you down here!_

Recognizing the heated purr in his voice, I hastily bid my farewells and rushed from the rooftop terrace.

***

The lights were turned down when I entered our hotel room, but lit candles were placed on the nightstands, dresser, desk, and end tables.  Glass vases of roses decorated those surfaces as well.  _All of My Love_ played softly from an iPod on the dresser.  There was no sign of Dean in the bedroom, but I could see light under the closed door to the bathroom.

I carefully hung my tux jacket and tie, which had been removed earlier in the evening, over the back of a chair and took off my vest.  I’d just sat down on the bed to take off my shoes when my brother emerged from the bathroom, wearing a white robe.  He took a few steps forward before opening the robe and dropping it. 

My breath caught as the white silk slipped from his shoulders, revealing a white lace underbust bustier wrapped around his lean torso.  Satin garters attached to the bottom of the bustier held up white, sheer, lace-topped thigh-high stockings on his muscular legs, while filmy white lace panties covered his perfect ass.  He’d worn panties for me a couple times previously but never full lingerie, and I could feel the blood in my body rushing south in reaction.

He moved closer, and my breathing momentarily ceased.  His face was lightly made up—greenish-gold shadow and dark brown liner accentuating the size and color of his bright eyes, black mascara lengthening his already long lashes, light pearlescent powder emphasizing the fairness and smoothness of his freckled skin, and rosy lip gloss making his lush mouth even more kissable.  He stopped in front of me, smiling, and I caught a whiff of a musky fragrance with notes of jasmine, sandalwood, and vanilla.

I don’t know how he did it—just when I thought he couldn’t be sexier, he managed to prove me wrong.  On another man, this outfit—the lace, the stockings, the make-up, all of it—might’ve looked ridiculous.  But on Dean, it highlighted his feminine features while still leaving it clear that he was definitely a man. My heart started to pound, my breathing became ragged, and my cock grew harder than it’d ever been in my life. 

 _You like what you see, baby?_ he asked with a gleam in his eyes, though I could sense the nervousness underneath his sultry expression.

I immediately stood, clasped his hands, and kissed those glossy lips.  _You are the most_ gorgeous _thing I have_ ever _seen!  If you make me any hornier, I’m going to split these very expensive pants!_

 _Well, we can’t have that!_ he said with a laugh, as his anxiety disappeared and was replaced by arousal.  _You look way too hot in this suit to ruin it!_

With that, my husband began unbuttoning my shirt and removing the studs, while I unfastened my pants.  When I was down to only my black silk boxers, I sat back down on the bed and pulled him to stand between my legs.  I spread my hands over his ribs, feeling the soft texture of the rose-patterned lace.  He wove his fingers through my hair and tilted my head back to kiss me.  I opened my mouth under his, and he slid his tongue inside to deepen the kiss.

After kissing ardently for several minutes, I drew my head away and leaned forward to flick his nipples with my tongue.  He gasped and tugged on my hair as I suckled and nibbled at the tender nubs, while my fingers toyed with the satin ribbon lacing up the front of the bustier.  I let my fingers drift down to lightly pluck at the garters and run along the waistband of the panties.

“Lie down, Dee.  I want to be able to reach all of you,” I told my lover.

While he arranged himself in the center of the plush king bed, I pushed my boxers off, freeing my engorged member.  I crawled on top and bent my neck to kiss him again, while reaching a hand down to caress his erect shaft through the lacy panties.  Dean returned my kiss and wrapped his fingers around my cock, stroking it and thrusting his own against my hand.  I could feel the moisture as his pre-cum soaked the flimsy fabric.

“Hurry, Sammy!  Need you in me!” he moaned, his desire rising.

He spread his legs so that I could settle between them, and I could see that the crotch of his panties was already damp.  I pushed the fabric aside to expose his puckered entrance and rubbed the head of my cock along his perineum for a moment before sinking into his slick, tight channel.  He hitched his legs over my hips and squeezed his inner walls around me gently.  I pushed his white-clad thighs up further and began sliding in and out of him at a steady pace.

I’d originally planned to keep my lovemaking tender tonight, to make our wedding night something exceptional and magical.  But seeing that gossamer material rubbing against the base of my member, seeing that delicate lace stretch over my husband’s sides with each panted breath, seeing those sooty lashes flutter and pink-smeared lips open as he gasped in pleasure . . . My control eroded, and I found myself gripping his hips tightly and thrusting harder and harder into his hot, silky passage.  He cried out and flexed around my shaft each time I rubbed against his prostate. 

Dean reached up and braced against the headboard as I yanked his pelvis up higher, so that his knees were resting on my shoulders, and hammered into his ass.  He soon screamed and clenched around me in ecstasy, shooting his semen into his lacy panties.  I bent him over even more and continued to pound into him, growling with each deep thrust.  I could feel his arousal growing again, even so soon after orgasming, as my cock stimulated his pleasure spot with every stroke.

“ _Ahh_ , God!  Sammy, your . . . _ahh_ , cock feels so fucking good!  Don’t . . . _ahh_ , don’t stop!” he gasped.

I redoubled my pace, feeling his love and want enveloping me, until the bed was creaking beneath us and my brother was wordlessly shouting loud enough for half the floor to hear us.  He finally shuddered and clamped down hard around my member as he came once more.  I managed to plunge into him an additional couple of times before ejaculating deep into his moist, velvety channel.  I collapsed beside him, my vision spinning for a moment.

“This is all your fault, jerk!” I complained once I was capable of speech again.  I could vaguely hear _In Your Eyes_ playing in the background.

Dean smirked at my playful tone, radiating satisfaction.  “What are you bitching ‘bout now, bitch?”

“I _was_ going to take things slow, to try to make tonight special.  But you . . . _this_ . . . it was just too damn irresistible!”  I waved a hand towards the bustier and stockings.

“Hah!  Just seeing me in panties always drives you nuts, so I _knew_ you’d go totally ape-shit for the whole nine yards.”  He stretched sensuously and peered up at me through his long, darkened lashes.  “Don’t worry—I _like_ it when you go all alpha-male on me.  It’s _really_ hot, dude!”

 _You constantly amaze me, you know that?  I would_ never _have the guts to try to pull something like this off,_ I told him while pressing kisses down the column of his throat.  _Nor look half as good doing it!_

 _I wanted to do something memorable for our wedding night.  Dunno if I’ll go for_ all _this again, though seeing how much you like it . . . And you don’t give yourself enough credit for how gorgeous you are, sweetheart.  Besides, you certainly have the hair to go with an outfit like this!_  He teasingly tugged on a lock of my hair, which now brushed my shoulders—I’d been growing it out recently.

 _I know how much you like it, even if you’ll never admit it!_ I retorted as I bit lightly at the base of his neck.  _Did Jody help you with this too?_

 _Hell no!  It’s bad enough that she had to get us those sex toys all those months ago!  I mean, it’s been awesome having her assistance with all the planning that went into today, but . . . This panty thing is private, something just between us_ , he said, blushing self-consciously.  _Someone from the spa came up to help with the makeup, but I took care of the lingerie by myself_.

I kissed his ruddy lips slowly, feeling both flattered and humbled that he trusted me with this, something which went so far against the tough outer image he usually projected.  He opened his mouth under mine with a sigh and brought his hands down to caress my chest, massaging my pectoral muscles and fondling my nipples.  I dropped my hands to grasp his ass, kneading each buttock separately.  We remained like this for a couple minutes, exchanging lazy kisses and soft touches.

Dean then began kissing his way down my body, pausing to suck a hickey at the juncture of my neck and shoulders, to flick and suckle at each of my nipples, to dip his tongue into my navel, and to lick a line down my treasure trail.  I arched my back as he kissed around the edge of my groin and gasped as he first scratched his teeth over my scrotum and then drew each testicle into his mouth.  He stroked my erect cock a few times before swallowing it down to the base.

“Damn, Dee, that’s _incredible_!  No one’s ever sucked my cock like you do!” I groaned.

He smiled around my girth and started to hum along to the iPod, which was now playing _More Than Words_.  His tongue swirled around my shaft as he bobbed his head up and down my length in time to the song, while his fingers rolled and fondled my balls.  Soon I felt my testicles tighten up, and he drew back to suck on my glans as I climaxed into his mouth with a yell.

Before my erection could begin to wilt, my lover climbed up to straddle my pelvis and sank down on my member, surrounding me in his wet, snug heat.  We both moaned at not only the physical sensations as we joined again, but also the passion, adoration, and completeness we experienced from one another.  He leaned down to kiss me hungrily while rocking his hips and constricting the walls of his channel around me.  He then sat back up and started to rise up and drop down on my shaft.  I put my hands on his hips and thrust up into him each time he came down.

We moved together like this for a time, our gasps and moans and flesh slapping together drowning out the music.  Eventually he sped up his motions and slipped a hand into his panties to jack his stiff cock rapidly.  I tightened my grip and began slamming up into his smooth, warm passage.  He suddenly cried out loudly and squeezed hard around my member, spurting his seed onto the filmy fabric over his groin.  This pushed me over the edge, and I shouted as I pulsed into his depths.  He collapsed onto my torso, his inner walls trembling and his chest rumbling in a satiated purr.

I looked down at my husband—his tawny hair rumpled, green eyes heavy, freckled skin flushed, makeup smeared, bustier sweat-stained, panties soaked in our cum.  He was still a vision, and my heart swelled at the thought of spending the rest of my life like this.  I wrapped my arms around him in a tender embrace, as the iPod switched to _Wild Horses_.

 _Today has to be the best of my life, baby!  I can’t imagine ever being happier than this,_ I said, reaching down to capture those full lips with mine.

Dean kissed back enthusiastically.  _I know what you mean, darling!  This has gotta knock some stuff off our greatest hits list whenever we get to Heaven.  And we still have the honeymoon to look forward to!_

 _I know we were kind of nervous earlier about what Gabriel had planned for that, but I got a really good feeling when he talked about it at the reception,_ I mentioned.

I’d not had any visions since Azazel’s death, but I did start to get good or bad “vibes” about things after the showdown in Stull.  I’d gotten a _very_ good feeling when Dean proposed to me and a rather negative one about the vampire hunt where Garth got injured and we lost two other hunters.  This vibe thing hadn’t happened often, but I was learning to pay attention when it did.

 _Is that so?  Well, that’s a positive sign,_ my brother responded.  _Ya know, if Gabe keeps this up, I_ might _stop wanting to rip his fucking balls off for what he did to you._

 _To_ me _?  You’re the one he killed over a hundred times!_

 _Yeah, but I wasn’t really aware of what was going on._ You _were the one who had to live through that shit!  Not to mention getting hit in the nads during that fucked-up game show or having to do that damn herpes commercial._

 _Ugh, don’t remind me!  Let’s hope it’s nothing but good memories from now on._   I rolled us over and gazed into his wide eyes.  “Let’s make some more now—the night isn’t over yet!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean had to up his panty game for something as special as their wedding night! Next chapter we'll see what this tropical honeymoon Gabe planned for them is like . . .
> 
> What Bobby used at the end of his speech at the reception was a variation of a traditional Irish toast. A similar version was used in the movie Hitch.
> 
> Oh, and in case anyone's curious, I'm imagining Sam's hair now looks similar to his style in Season 8, while Dean's is more like when he was a Knight of Hell in the beginning of Season 10. I personally prefer longer hair--mine goes down past my waist, and my husband's to the middle of his back--so I had to take the opportunity to lengthen the boys' locks! :)
> 
> The story is still a work-in-progress, though there are 10 chapters done so far (this week was busy with interviews and the Pokemon GO event, so I didn't get as much writing done as I wanted). The next update will go up a little early, and the following one a little late, as I'll be on vacation for about a week. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel takes the boys to their tropical resort honeymoon . . .

Gabriel walked into the hotel restaurant just as we were finishing up a breakfast of waffles, eggs, sausage, and fruit.  He said cheerily, “ _Bonjour, mes amies!_   You kids ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“Yeah, we’ve already checked out and put our bags in the car,” I replied as I wiped my lips with my napkin and stood.

“Great!  Let’s head out to the parking lot then.”  The archangel popped a Jolly Rancher into his mouth and made his way toward the door.

Dean knocked back the rest of his coffee before following us out.  “So about this resort—whaddya mean by supernatural friendly?”

Gabriel explained as we walked through the lobby, “It’s called Chavah Island.  Some of the staff and most of the guests are of the paranormal variety—witches, vamps, weres, shifters, et cetera, even the occasional well-behaved demon.  But don’t worry—like I said before, the resort has strict rules on guest behavior, including a no violence policy.  All of the more . . . uh, specialized items on the menu are what you might call ‘cruelty free,’ meaning they get ‘em from butchers, morgues, blood banks, places like that.  No live humans are ever harmed to provide this place with chow.

“Also, the guest list is pretty rarefied compared to what you’re used to as hunters.  See, the monsters you guys run into are generally the lowlifes of the supernatural world—too stupid or violent or outta control to keep from getting noticed.  The rest of the community has learned how to live without causing trouble, so they typically fly under the hunter radar.  Most of ‘em are nice, ordinary folk who happen to have unusual abilities or eating habits.  That’s the sort that you’re gonna see at Chavah.”

My brother looked skeptical.  “Really?  Monster communities?  You ain’t just pulling our legs?”

“Really really.  Scout’s honor!”  The angel held up two fingers in a V.

I considered the idea as we walked through the parking lot to the Impala.  “Huh!  I guess it makes some sense.  We hunters usually find cases after something attracts enough attention to warrant a news article or start a local legend.  But if those creatures are like the equivalent of criminals, then it stands to reason that there’d be even more supernatural entities out there living quiet lives.  It’ll be fascinating to talk to some of them!”

The other hunter groaned.  “And there he goes!  Sam, we’re going on our honeymoon to have _fun_ , not collect research for a fucking dissertation on monster society!”

“Err, does this mean I won’t hafta worry about you guys hunting there just on principle?” Gabriel asked tentatively.

“No, you won’t.  Our dad may’ve been fairly black and white about the supernatural, but we’ve run into non-violent creatures before and let them go.  As long as no one at the resort is hurting anyone else, we shouldn’t have any issues,” I assured him as I opened the passenger-side door. 

“Besides, both of us ain’t exactly human, so it’d pretty damn hypocritical to hunt someone just for that,” Dean added as he got into the car.

“Perfect!  Everyone in?  All passengers, please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright positions.  And hold onto your butts!”  Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the Impala and its passengers disappeared.

There was a loud flapping of wings and the momentary smell of ozone, and then we materialized in a parking garage.  As we opened the doors, the feel of warm humid air, the smell of saltwater, and the sound of ocean birds told us we weren’t in Iowa anymore.  Gabriel leaned forward over the seatback to hand Dean a parking tag to hang on the rearview mirror before getting out.

“We’re currently on Little Torch Key, and this garage is right next to the marina.  You could bring your Baby to the resort on the ferry if you _really_ want,” he continued as we emerged from the car.  “But you can walk from one end of the island to the other in half an hour, and most of the place only has footpaths.  So I got you a parking pass for the next two weeks.  You can always take the ferry back here anytime to drive her around the main islands.

“I also took the liberty of getting you two some more duds.  Chavah doesn’t do much black-tie stuff, but they do expect you to wear more than jeans and flannel to dinner.  Figured you might not have much else besides your tacky Fed outfits and the penguin suits from your wedding, so I picked up some slacks and shirts.  Feel free to toss or donate anything you don’t like.”

Dean popped open the trunk, and there was a new rolling carry-on style bag inside, in addition to our usual military duffle bags, laptop bags, and the garment bags for our suits.  We looked at each other, shrugged, and grabbed everything.  The archangel then led us out of the garage, into the marina, and down one of the piers.  There were already a handful of people waiting there.

“The ferry travels between the resort and here every hour, and it should be here in about ten minutes.  You lovebirds have fun, and you know how to reach me if you need anything!”  Gabriel gave us a jaunty wave and walked off.

We turned our attention to our new companions, who were presumably were also waiting for the ferry.  There was a distinguished-looking couple who looked to be in their mid- to late thirties, dressed in linen slacks, long-sleeved summer shirts, large sunglasses, and wide straw hats.  Judging by their pallor and how covered up they were, I wondered if the two were vampires.  The others were another couple closer to my age and a red-headed boy of no more than six, all wearing shorts, tank tops, and Hawaiian shirts.

My husband immediately knelt in front of the little boy.  “Hey there, buddy!  What’s your name?  I’m Dean, and the hairy giant with me is Sam.  We’re here on our honeymoon.”

The child looked up at his parents, who nodded, before answering, “My name’s Tyler.  I didn’t know boys could get married!”

“There ain’t too many places that allow it yet, but we got lucky!” Dean said.  “So, whaddya turn into?”

Tyler’s eyes grew wide.  “You _know_?  I’m not supposed to tell, but . . . I’m a Golden Retriever!”

“’Sokay, kiddo.  I’m a shapeshifter, which is kinda like a skinwalker.  And Sammy here _loves_ dogs, so maybe your mom and dad will let him throw a ball or Frisbee for you on the beach while we’re here.”

The kid turned to his parents.  “Ooh, can I?  Huh, Mom, Dad?”

His mother, who shared the same red hair and freckles, smiled indulgently at him.  “Sure thing, honey, as long as Dad or I are watching.  Just don’t pester either of these nice men too much!” 

She looked up at me and held out her hand.  “I’m Susan, and this is my husband Joe.  We spent our honeymoon here too.  Joe just got a big promotion, so we decided to treat ourselves and come back.  It’s _so_ nice being someplace where you don’t have to hide what you are, don’t you think?”

I shook her hand.  “Dean and I have never been somewhere like this before.  But we do have a few people we can just be ourselves around, so I understand.”

Her husband, a thin man with light brown hair, also shook my hand, and they both shared some memories of their previous visit to the resort.  Dean was still engrossed with Tyler, who had pulled some action figures out of his bag and was gesturing animatedly.  The other couple soon moved closer.

The woman asked, “Was that Loki with you just now?  I’m Edith, by the way, and he’s Donald.”

“Um, yeah.  He’s . . . kind of a friend of the family.  This trip is his surprise wedding gift.  We don’t actually know too much about the place,” I answered.

Edith, a handsome woman with a silver streak through her dark hair, rather like Polgara, smiled.  “Hopefully you’ll love Chavah Island as much as we do.  The bungalows are luxurious and fairly private, and I’m told the food is phenomenal.  The resort has all the island activities you could want, or you can spend the day lounging on the beach or by the pool.  And as Susan said, it’s a pleasure to not have to maintain the usual façade.”

“I hope so too, ma’am!  We’ve never been on an extravagant vacation like this before, so I don’t think either of us quite knows what to expect.”

“Well, Don and I will be glad to show you around if you need it.  It’s certainly different to see a mixed race couple about.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course!  It’s just that people tend to stick to their own kind, or humans at the most.  Survival of the species I suppose, or some outdated notion like that.  I can tell you’re not a shapeshifter, not like your lovely husband,” she clarified at my confused look.  “I can’t place your scent, other than it isn’t quite human.  Do you mind if I ask . . . ?”

I’d never really thought before about how to explain what I was to an outsider, and I _certainly_ didn’t want to talk about the demon blood.  “Uh, I guess the simplest description is I’m a kind of psychic.”

Before she could ask for details, Dean stood and faced the water, as did Tyler and his parents.  Moments later, Edith and her spouse turned their heads in the same direction.  It took another minute or so before I could hear a boat engine approaching the dock.

“Okay, champ, you put your toys away now, ‘cause we don’t want Batman to hafta swim to shore.  I gotta go help Sam with our bags,” my brother said to the little boy before walking over to me.

“Edith, Don, this is my husband Dean.”  I put an arm around his waist as I made the introductions, a warm feeling spreading in my chest at being able to call him that.  “Edith’s been telling me a little about the resort.”

Dean smiled charmingly and shook their hands.  “Nice to meetcha.  I hope we get a chance to talk more at the island.  For now though, looks like we got a boat to catch!”

We waited for the ferry to dock and the current passengers to disembark.  The ferry had room for two vehicles in the cargo area in the rear and seating for about twenty on the deck in front of the pilot’s cabin.  Two burly men assisted with unloading the leaving guests’ luggage and stowing ours in the front of the cargo area.  The seven of us took our seats near the bow of the ship a few minutes before it launched again.

***

The ferry ride took perhaps twenty minutes.  The loud engine made conversation difficult, but we were amply entertained by watching Tyler’s excited antics.  We soon pulled up to a small dock that led up to a large, brightly painted building with traditional island architecture.  The two husky sailors tied the ferry off and unloaded everyone’s bags from the boat onto luggage carts, which other employees pushed towards the building.

Dean and I let the others go on ahead while we took a good look at the island.  It was small, maybe a quarter-mile long, and vaguely S-shaped.  The dock was near the southwestern end, and a sandy beach lined with palm trees and dotted with lounge chairs and umbrellas extended further to the south and around the tip.  Past the colorful main building, we could see the first of the thatch-roofed guest bungalows, each with a small private beach and shaded from its neighbors by tropical foliage.  The water surrounding us was amazingly clear and calm.

“This place looks unbelievable!” I breathed, and Dean simply nodded, looking just as stunned.

After gazing around for a couple more minutes, we made our way into what I assumed was the main lodge.  Inside the tile-floored lobby, a blue-tattooed djinni stood behind a polished marble concierge desk.  The cart holding our luggage waited near a side entrance.

We walked up to the desk, and my brother addressed the djinni.  “Uh, we’ve got reservations here?  Thing is, this was kinda a surprise gift, so we’re not exactly sure whose name they’re under.  The reservations woulda been made by Loki, I think?”

The concierge tapped on the keyboard of his computer for a moment.  “Ah yes, here it is!  A two-week reservation at one of our island romance suites for Dean Smith and Sam Wesson, booked as you said by Master Loki.  He apparently is taking care of all your expenses here, including meals, drinks, and any activities you’d like to partake in.  Luis will be back shortly to take you to your bungalow after he drops off the other guests.  In the meantime, why don’t you sit down and enjoy a complimentary cocktail at the Lounge over here?  While you’re waiting, I’ll explain a few things about the resort, if you don’t mind, since I don’t know how much Master Loki may have told you.”

We nodded and went over to the small tiki bar-themed lounge, where I ordered a mojito and Dean got a rum punch.  Once we were seated at one of the little bamboo tables, the djinni left his desk and stood nearby.

“As you’re aware, we cater to guests of a wide variety of races.  To ensure everyone’s safety and comfort, Chavah Island has a _strict_ policy against any form of violence.  This includes nonconsensual feeding or use of spells or abilities on other guests.  Resort staff are off-limits at _all_ time to such behavior, consensual or not.  Infractions will be dealt with promptly and may result in anything ranging from a verbal warning to expulsion from the island without refund, depending on the severity.  We fortunately have not had to resort to the latter yet, and we hope this trend continues.

“Now that _that_ is out of the way, please let me welcome you to Chavah Island!  Our goal here is to provide our guests with a relaxing getaway.  As a result, there are no alarms or telephones in our bungalows, though they are equipped with a paging system to contact the concierge desk for requests or issues.  There is cell and internet service throughout the island and phones and computers available here in the Lodge.  Each bungalow has its own TV and Blu-Ray player, but the only TV with cable service is in the Great Room.  Movies, books, and board games can be borrowed from the Library and enjoyed there or taken back to your bungalow.

“Chavah has a full range of amenities, including a secluded pool, quiet beaches, full-service spa, fitness center, meditation garden, and boutique stocked with souvenirs from the resort and surrounding islands.  Luis will show you the locations of some of these on the way to your bungalow, and there is a complete map there as well.  We also offer a wide assortment of activities on and nearby the island, including hiking, fishing, sailing, sky diving, and wildlife encounters.  There is also water and air shuttle service to the Keys and the Bahamas.  A brochure detailing all the options is waiting at your bungalow, and you can call the concierge at any time to schedule a reservation. 

“Lastly, the resort has a variety of dining options as well.  There is our award-winning Dining Room here in the Lodge, where you can mingle with other guests.  We have three private dining locations throughout the island, and you also can have meals served in your bungalow.  Meal times and menus can be found in your bungalow, and you can make reservations through the concierge.  In addition, there is the Lounge here and the Pool Bar, which serve drinks and snacks.  All of our dining areas can accommodate any allergies or dietary requirements, though rest assured that no sentient beings are ever harmed to acquire some of the more . . . esoteric menu items.  Raw meat or organs are not served at the public dining areas to not disturb our more squeamish guests.

“It sounds like Luis has just pulled up, so I will bid you good morning.  Please feel free to ask questions of myself or any of the staff over the course of your stay.”  He bowed slightly and returned to his desk.

We finished our drinks and made our way over to the side entrance, where what appeared to be a modified golf cart was just outside.  A slim, cheerful-looking young man was piling our bags into the luggage area of the vehicle.  He smiled widely at our approach.

“Hi guys!  Sam and Dean, right?  I’m Luis, and I’m gonna take you on a quick guided tour before I drop you off at your bungalow.  Looks like you’re in one of our romance suites— _nice_!  Most of our guest accommodations are oceanfront duplexes; only a dozen or so are private and have their own beaches like yours.  Well, all your bags are stowed, so hop in and let’s get going!

“You already saw our Sunset Dock and main beach when you came in.  Jacques at the front desk probably already mentioned that the Lodge here houses the Lounge, the Dining Room, and the gift shop.  There’s also the Salon for socializing, and there’s dancing on the attached verandah in the evenings.  Out back are the pool and the Pool Bar.”

As we cleared the main building and drove past a smaller wooden building, he continued, “This right here is the Great Room, another social spot, and the Library.  Anything in the Library can be lent out, as long as it’s returned in time.  North of here are some of our private bungalows. 

“This white stucco building up ahead is our fitness center and main spa, as well as our administrative offices.  There’s also a first aid station that can dispense over-the-counter stuff.  North of this is the dive shop for our snorkeling and scuba excursions, and beyond that is Solitude Point, where they’ve got outdoor massages, beachside yoga sessions, and private dining.  To the south are most of the regular bungalows, and along part of the southern shore is the Atlantic Dock, where the sea plane, helicopter, and some of our boats take off.”

Before we turned to the north, Luis pointed further down the eastward path.  “If you keep going down here, you’ll reach the outdoor spa pavilion, and past it is the meditation garden.  We’re heading to where the rest of the private bungalows are, including yours.  Further to the east are the marina, Harbor Dock, and Harbor Point, another private dining spot.  At the far end of the island is a bit of a wilderness area for hiking and picnics, and then a smaller beach and Sandy Point, the last private dining location.”

We pulled up alongside a squarish bungalow with a peaked thatch roof, mostly hidden from the main path by lush tropical plants and trees.  He parked the golf cart and announced, “Here we are, at the Griffin!  All the bungalows have the names like Pegasus, Phoenix, and Chimera.  Kinda cool, huh?  Guess it keeps with the theme of the place.”

We all grabbed bags and carried them inside.  Luis departed after telling us to ask for him if we needed anything.  We were then left alone to explore what would be our residence for the next two weeks.

The half of the bungalow facing the water was entirely made up of an airy great room.  Tall louvered windows filled the majority of the three outer walls and let in a lot of light, while the bamboo-lined vaulted ceiling made the room appear even bigger.  A soft blue rug covered a good portion of the polished wood floor, and white curtains hung between the windows.  A large seating area took up most of the space—comfortable wicker couch and armchairs with blue and white cushions arranged before a low entertainment unit, a square wooden coffee table in front of the couch and matching end tables bracketing it.  A simple wooden desk and leather-bound chair sat against the wall near the entertainment center.  The far end of the room held a small kitchenette area with a mini-fridge, microwave, and Keurig machine.  The fridge and cabinets were stocked with soda, juice, bottled water, and various snacks, with instructions to request refills on a folded card.  Resting on the counter was an open bottle of chilled champagne and a tray of sliced fresh fruit.

After pouring ourselves glasses of champagne and munching on some of the fruit, we continued our reconnaissance.  The bedroom was spacious, with similar windows filling one outer wall, though the high ceiling here wasn’t lined, allowing a view of the underside of the thatched roof, and the floor was carpeted.  The canopy of the plush king bed was hung with sheer netting, over which a ceiling fan slowly spun.  Two chairs, a small table, and a standing lamp made up a reading nook in one corner.  Nightstands with lamps, a long dresser, a large armoire, and a padded chest at the foot of the bed comprised the rest of the furnishings.  The bathroom was almost as roomy, with stone floors, mosaic-tiled walls, double vessel sinks, and a deep soaker tub in the main area.  The toilet and bidet were sequestered in their own room, and a glass door led to a rainfall shower enclosure big enough to fit the both of us easily.

Outside, an oversized deck wrapped around the great room.  A large hot tub and circular daybed filled one side, while an outdoor dining set and several patio chairs were scattered about on the other.  Heavy white curtains along the sides could be pulled shut to create a private oasis.  Past the deck, a small beach lined with palm trees and shrubs dropped off to a somewhat rocky shoreline.  A circular stone fire pit was set between two cushioned lounge chairs, with small wooden ice chests serving as end tables.  A wide hammock hung between two of the trees, and a bamboo outdoor shower stood against one side of the deck.

We went back inside, where Dean snagged a bag of pretzels and flopped onto the couch.  “Dude, this place is _awesome_!  If the rest of this resort lives up to this, I might hafta downgrade to only wanting to rip off _one_ of Gabriel’s testicles.”

I filled a plate with more fruit and sat beside him.  “I know, right?  We’ll have to improve the quality of the motels we stay at in the future, because I don’t think I can handle our usual fleabag dumps after this!  I just hope all these different supernatural creatures in one place won’t become a problem.  That skinwalker family seems quite nice, however, and I rather like Edith, even though I’m pretty sure she and Don are vamps.  Jacques also was very courteous and professional.”

“The ferry pilot and Luis are human, but the other two working the boat are werewolves.  From what everyone’s been telling us though, this resort’s been doing its thing for a while without problems.  So I say we stow the weapons we brought in the safe and hope we ain’t gonna need ‘em.”  He crunched up another pretzel and swallowed.  “So what do we wanna do today?”

“I think we should take it easy.  Unpack our stuff, go through those brochures over on the desk, and figure out some of what we’d like to do while we’re here.  Maybe walk around a little after lunch to get the lay of the land.”

“Sounds like a plan.  Though the first decision we need to make is which room are we gonna _christen_ right now, baby!”  He slid an arm around my waist and waggled his eyebrows.

I laughed and kissed him.  “You’re right—where _are_ my priorities!  We should start in the bedroom then.”

My husband grabbed my hand and led me to the other room, where we both quickly undressed and climbed onto the bed.  He sighed in contentment as he settled back against the soft pillows, and then smiled up at me and pulled me down for a long kiss.  Our cocks stiffened as we pressed against each other, and I started to rub mine slowly against his.

 _Mmm yeah, Sammy, that’s nice,_ he murmured, running his hands along the muscles of my back.

 _Love you so much, Dee!_ I said, in between peppering kisses along his neck.

He slid his hands into my hair and caught my lips with his.  At the same time, he began to rock his hips, sliding our shafts together faster and faster.  We were soon moaning into each other’s mouths and rutting against each other passionately.  As my pleasure crested, I pulled my mouth away and bit down on the base of his neck.  He shouted and spurted onto his belly moments after I climaxed with a loud groan.

Before our cum could even cool off, I pushed my lover’s legs up and slid into his tight, wet passage.  He gasped as I set up a rapid pace of thrusts, squeezing around my member as each stroke grazed his prostate.  His gasps turned into soft moans as I plunged harder into his silky heat, and his volume increased when I hitched his hips up so I could drive deeper into him.

No matter how often we made love, I never tired of feeling my cock sinking into his slick channel, feeling his velvety walls flexing around me, feeling his smooth skin sliding against mine.  Nor seeing his lovely face flush and his brilliant eyes widen, hearing his deep voice keen and cry out, tasting his sweat and spit and seed, all due to the pleasure I was giving him.  And those experiences were made a thousand times better by being able to sense his love, his joy, his passion as we joined.

I kept driving into him over and over until Dean shook and clenched around my shaft.  As his orgasm overwhelmed him, he grasped my shoulders and surged up to kiss me ardently.  I closed my arms around his back in a close embrace while pulsing deep into his passage.  We fell back against the bed still wrapped in each other.

 _Best.  Husband.  EVAR,_ he declared with a happy purr.  _Love you, sweetheart._

I replied, _I think we’re making a pretty great start at married life so far!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter was a bit info-dumpy, but I needed to set the stage for the next few chapters. The resort here is heavily based on Little Palm Island (http://www.littlepalmisland.com/), with a few modifications here and there. If I ever win the lottery or come into a mysterious inheritance, I'm definitely vacationing there at least once! And 10 points to your wizarding house if you can identify what the name Chavah Island references. :)
> 
> This week's update is going up a day early because we are leaving for vacation tomorrow. We're returning the following Saturday, so next week's update won't be until Saturday night or Sunday morning. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and comments and kudos are highly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy their first full day at the resort . . .

We eventually cleaned ourselves up and made our way to the Lodge for lunch.  The food at the Dining Room was excellent, easily one of the best meals we’d ever had.  My Cobb salad was hearty and flavorful, and Dean sounded like he wanted to make love to his burger.  Accompanying our meal was a fruit punch of orange, mango, and passionfruit juices.

After lunch, we meandered around the resort for a while.  The island was serene and, with the exception of the area around the Lodge and main beach, blissfully quiet.  The buildings, with their island-style design and lush landscaping, seemed a natural extension of the tropical setting.  We saw a few people on the paths, but most of the guests congregated at the Lodge, marina, or one of the beaches.

Upon returning to our bungalow, we set about unpacking our clothes and toiletries.  The few weapons we brought—just our two handguns, a silver bowie knife, and the demon-killing knife—were locked up in the safe, where hopefully they’d stay for the duration of our honeymoon.  We then perused the literature the resort had provided on their various amenities and activities to plan the next few days.  Dinner was back at the Dining Room, where we tried the chef’s seven-course tasting menu.  Afterwards, we lit the fire pit on our private beach and relaxed on the lounge chairs, drinking beers and watching the stars together.

The next morning, after a brisk jog on a path that circumnavigated most of the island and then a breakfast of eggs, toast, and smoked fish on our deck—we’d elected to have the morning meals served in our bungalow for a more leisurely start to the day—we went to the main beach near the Lodge.  Beaches weren’t something we got to visit often.  Few hunts took us to coastal resort areas _and_ gave us the time to enjoy our surroundings.  The beaches we did get to see tended to be noisy and crowded.

This beach, however, was as peaceful as the rest of Chavah Island.  There were no more than a dozen people here, playing in the water or on the sand or reclining on lounge chairs under shady umbrellas.  We dropped our towels, shoes, and drinks onto a pair of chairs and immediately pelted for the ocean.  We horsed around in the warm water until our fingers and toes turned pruney, swimming back and forth, body surfing in the gentle waves, and of course splashing, dunking, and chasing each other around.

Once we tired of the water, I traipsed back to the umbrella we’d claimed, where I cursorily dried myself off and collapsed onto one of the loungers.  I laid back and began reading _The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest_.  Dean meanwhile got waylaid by an attractive young woman building an ambitiously large and detailed sand castle.  Judging by her tawny slit-pupiled eyes and short black claws, I took his new companion to be a kitsune.

I’d been engrossed in my book for a while when I heard someone drawl, “My, my, don’t you look simply _delicious_!”

I glanced up and saw Edith standing under the neighboring umbrella, holding a bloody Mary and eyeing me in my swim trunks approvingly.  I smiled back at her.  “Good morning!  That’s not tomato juice in your cocktail, is it?”

She laughed as she sat down.  “No, it’s the finest A-positive the resort has to offer.  How do you like your bungalow so far?”

“It’s amazing!  Dean and I aren’t really used to staying in luxurious places like this, so we’re grateful to be here for our honeymoon.”  I paused and looked up at the brightly sunny sky, then back at her.  “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but isn’t a tropical resort kind of . . . awkward for you?”

“I don’t mind at all—as you said before, you’ve never stayed in a place designed to cater people like us.  The resort has a warding on it to block out ultraviolet radiation, so no chance of anyone getting sunburnt here.  Including your pretty spouse, who I imagine would freckle terribly otherwise!” she explained with a smile.

Don spoke up from the chair on the other side of his mate.  “Speaking of which, you gonna let your boy play you like that, mate?  Already having trouble keeping him satisfied?”

I looked over at Dean, who was happily flirting with the kitsune while helping with her sand castle.  I paused to admire my brother before responding, enjoying how the sunlight gleamed off his wet blond hair and the brass amulet around his neck, how the water droplets glistened on his broad chest and taut abdomen, how his trunks clung to his lean hips and curved ass.

I raised an eyebrow at the male vampire.  “First off, I don’t _let_ him do anything—he’s my husband, not my pet.  And I’m glad to see he’s having a good time.  _I’m_ not so insecure that I can’t handle him paying a little harmless attention to someone else.”

“Yeah, whatever.”  Don rolled his eyes, then noticed Edith glaring at him.  “What?  I’m supposed to pretend it’s okay that you’re making friends with a pair of sodding poofters and watching ‘em run around on each other?”

While she lit into Don, I reached out.  _Dean?  Dean!_

 _What’s up, Sam?_   He must’ve felt my irritation and became concerned.  _Hey man, you know I’m only—_

 _No, no, I’m not pissed at_ you. _I’m happy you’re enjoying yourself, really!  But I need you to come over here and start hitting on Edith in front of this narrow-minded asshat._

He snickered.  _Is that right?  You sure she won’t mind?_

 _I’m pretty sure she’ll be cool with it.  She thinks you’re cute_ , I assured him.

 _‘Course she does—she’s a classy lady with good taste!  Hmm, I got a better idea to get this Spike-wannabe’s fucking goat._  

Dean leaned over and said something to his new friend, then stood and brushed the sand off his long bowed legs.  He sauntered over to me with a smile and threaded a hand through my hair.  Before I could say anything, he bent down, fitted his mouth to mine, and proceeded to try to extract my tonsils with his tongue.  I moaned and attempted to reciprocate as my brain shut down.  I vaguely heard Don swear in disgust and stomp off.

My husband pulled back, his smile curling into a smirk.  “Need a minute there, Sam?”

“Wh—what?  Umm . . . yeah.”  I shakily wiped at my mouth before looking over at Edith.

“You two don’t need to stop on _my_ account!” she said, fanning herself and grinning.  Her face grew serious.  “I want to apologize for Don’s behavior.  Normally he’s a decent guy, but sometimes he forgets he’s not in Victorian London anymore.”

“Don’t worry, we ain’t gonna hold him against you.  We’ve had to deal with _way_ bigger douchebags before,” Dean replied.  “I’m gonna head over to the Lodge to grab lunch for the two of us.  You want anything?”

She held up her glass.  “Another one of these would be lovely.  Thank you!”

He nodded, gave me a quick kiss, and ambled off. 

We both admired his rear end as he walked away, and then Edith glanced at me.  “Wherever did you find him?  And are there any more like him at home, preferably unattached?”

I laughed at her cheerful lasciviousness.  “Sorry, I’m afraid Dean’s one of a kind.  We grew up together.  My dad took Dean in after he was orphaned, when he was five and I was still a baby.  He practically raised me, since Dad was always busy with work.  I fell in love with him when I was thirteen years old, because he’s everything I could ever want—strong, smart, gorgeous, brave, kind, funny, you name it.  We haven’t been a couple for very long—he didn’t fall for me until years later, and then we wasted a lot of time not realizing that the other felt the same—but I can’t imagine wanting anyone else.”

“You both are quite lucky.  Don and I have been together since the height of the Roaring Twenties, and I couldn’t do without him,” she said with a fond expression.

“I don’t know if I’ll live _that_ long, but I do know that I plan to spend all of it with him.  So, how did you two meet?”

She entertained me with reminiscences about their courtship until Dean returned.  He gave her the fresh bloody Mary and handed me a plate with an ahi tuna burger and fruit salad before tucking into his pulled pork sandwich and fries.  I looked at his blissful face and wondered how difficult it would be for him to learn to prepare meals like this.  He was already a fairly talented cook, and good food always gave him such unadulterated pleasure.

As we finished eating, I heard frenzied barking, and an excited yellow puppy pelted up to me and planted his butt on my foot.  I rubbed at his ears as Susan and Joe walked over and set their stuff up nearby.  Tyler grabbed a Frisbee from his parents, and I threw it for him while Dean continued to converse with Edith. 

After the pup finally tired himself out, Dean and I joined Miko the kitsune and a handful of others in a game of beach volleyball.  Then the two of us walked over to the marina, where we raced around on jet skis for a couple hours.  Riding around on those made me see the appeal motorcycles had to some, though I imagined wiping out would be a lot less fun.

***

It was nearly evening by the time we returned to our bungalow.  We left our sandals on the deck and went directly to the bathroom.

“Had fun today, kiddo?” my brother asked as he dropped his swimsuit onto the tiled floor.

“God, yes!  We need to go to the beach more often after this.”  I draped my trunks on the counter and walked into the enormous shower.

He followed me in and fiddled with the controls.  This thing reminded me of the steam showers at the cursed development in Oasis Springs, with multiple jets on each wall and two rainfall shower heads hanging from the ceiling.  After a few moments, sinfully hot water began to spray on us at an amazing pressure.

Dean turned to me with a pleased grin.  “Dude, do ya remember us talking ‘bout what we wanted to do after stopping the damn Apocalypse?  We were on our way to see Bobby and tell him ‘bout me.  I think your psychic powers musta been working already, ‘cause we’ve got the ginormous shower with endless hot water and big fluffy towels!”

“You were the one who came up with the idea of a warm, secluded getaway, so I’d say I wasn’t the only one channeling some precog that day.”  I leaned down to kiss him.

We quickly soaped up and scrubbed each other off to sluice the salt and sand from our skin and hair.  Once we were clean, our movements became more leisurely.  We used our hands and mouths to caress each other’s body, to map out all the points that made the other gasp or sigh in pleasure.  I ended up pressing the smaller man against the wall, hungrily devouring his mouth and watching the water drip from the ends of his dark gold hair and long lashes and stream down his fair skin and sleek muscles.

As his green eyes fluttered halfway shut, I slid down onto my knees and took the head of his hard cock in my mouth.  I laved his glans with my tongue and ran the tip along his slit and down his frenulum.  He groaned and grasped at my head as I first licked up his shaft from base to head and then swallowed down as much as I could.  I bobbed up and down on his length repeatedly, sucking and lapping around his member.  At the same time, I clasped his scrotum in one hand and gently rolled his testicles between my fingers.  It wasn’t much longer until his breathing stuttered and his hands stiffened in my hair, and I had just enough time to pull back a little before his sticky load shot into my mouth.

I swallowed and licked away a few stray salty drops as I stood, while my brother slumped back and tried to catch his breath.  Before he could move, I grabbed him by the hips and hoisted him up.  He swiftly wrapped his arms around my neck and legs around my waist as I brought him down on my cock, sheathing it in his snug channel.  I shoved him against the wall and started to thrust into him relentlessly.

“Fuck, Dee!  You feel _amazing_ on my cock!” I panted.

He keened and squeezed his inner walls around me whenever my member brushed his prostate.  I buried my face in the crook of his neck, sucking and worrying my mark onto his skin, and continued to plunge into his slick depths.  His hands slid down to dig into my shoulders as he began lifting his pelvis up and bringing it down on my shaft in time with my strokes into his silky passage.  His passion heightened with each push against his sweet spot, and his love enveloped me as tightly as his limbs enfolding my body. 

I lifted my head from my lover’s neck to meet his lust-blown eyes, then crushed my mouth against his.  After coming up again for air, I gripped his hips firmly and started to pound into him vigorously.  He gasped my name each time I drove into his hot channel, his breathy voice barely audible over the sound of our flesh slamming together.  With a loud cry, he clamped down around my cock while ejaculating between us.  Only seconds later, I climaxed deep inside him.

Dean dropped his legs down, and we leaned against each other and breathed heavily for a minute, the still hot water falling around us.  We eventually turned the shower off and dried ourselves off with the oversized towels hanging nearby.  He then took my hand and led me outside onto the deck, wearing nothing but his amulet and wedding ring.

He sank down on the daybed and smiled lazily up at me, his eyes briefly flashing silver in the fading sunlight.  “Dude, we _gotta_ get a shower like that of our own someday!”

I pulled the curtains on this side of the deck closed before stretching out beside him.  “Yeah, it sure would be nice.”

The thought made me momentarily sad.  Getting our own fancy shower would of course first entail having our own house.  As much as I longed to have a home of our own though, I couldn’t see that happening anytime soon.  My brother loved hunting and helping people too much, and I couldn’t ask him to give that up.  Our settling down would have to wait until we were too old or too injured to hunt anymore.

The other man must’ve sensed my emotions and gave me a concerned look.  _What’s the matter, Sammy?  You sure you ain’t upset ‘bout me flirting with Miko earlier?_

 _No, I really_ was _happy to see you having a good time with her,_ I hastened to assure him.  _I know it used to bug me, but it . . . it just didn’t feel right when you stopped after . . . well, you know.  So I’m glad that you’re feeling relaxed enough to pay attention to a pretty girl!  And I_ do _trust you._

He was pleased.  _Well, that’s good.  So what is bothering you then?_

I didn’t want to make him feel guilty, so I came up with something equally true.  _It’s nothing major.  I’m just going to miss this place when our two weeks here are up._

_Yeah, this place is totally awesome.  Maybe we can start a tradition of going somewhere nice for our anniversary?  It won’t be anywhere as expensive as this, but we can still find someplace memorable._

I leaned over to kiss him, surprised and delighted as always whenever he came up with something romantic.  _That would be great!  You’re incredible, you know that?_

 _Yeah, yeah, I’m freaking Romeo or some shit._   His satisfaction was now tinged with embarrassment.  “We don’t hafta get ready for dinner for a while, right?”

“Our reservation isn’t until eight, so we should have over an hour.  Why?”

In response, Dean rolled over until he was straddling my waist, his hands resting on my chest and his ass brushing against my groin.  He bent down and pressed his lips to mine.  We exchanged long, languid kisses for a while and let our hands wander over each other’s body.  Feeling my ardor rising, he eventually shimmied back and sank down on my erect cock, encasing me in his taut heat. 

He initially just sat there, gently rocking his hips and looking down at me with large bright eyes.  He began to slowly rise up and lower himself down, the velvety walls of his passage constricting around me.  I placed one hand on his freckled hip and stroked his dusky member with the other.  He hummed and half-closed his eyes in pleasure, and the movement of his pelvis quickened. 

“ _Yeah_ , baby boy . . . wish we could stay like this all the time,” he sighed.  I could feel my husband’s gratification at being filled and stretched, accompanied by sharp bursts of bliss whenever his prostate was rubbed.

He continued to ride me at a brisk pace, and I started to thrust up into him while maintaining my grip on his shaft.  Before long, the moist warmth and silky pressure of his channel overwhelmed me, and I came inside him with a shout.  The moment my seed spurted against his inner membranes, he gasped and clenched around me and ejaculated onto my belly.  He collapsed onto my chest, and I turned so that we were resting on our sides.

We lay there for several minutes, curled around each other, and watched the spectacular colors of the tropical sunset.  I ran a hand through my lover’s rumpled hair and listened to his happy purr, content not to move.  After a while, he carefully pulled himself off my cock and sat up.

“We gotta get dressed soon.  And it looks like we hafta clean up again,” Dean commented, rubbing at the drying semen on his stomach.

“It’s breezy enough out here that neither of us got sweaty, so a wet washcloth should do the trick.  Don’t forget to shave though.”  At his raised eyebrow, I explained, “I like you better clean-shaven, Dee.”

“You know I don’t do this to look like some douchebag sex symbol-wannabe.  The stubble helps folks take me more seriously—makes me look older and less fucking _pretty_.”  The last word was spat in disgust as he swung his legs around and put his feet on the deck.

I stood abruptly and caught his face between my hands.  _You don’t need to hide behind a mask of any kind—not stubble or macho attitude or any of that bullshit.  Anyone who discounts you as just a pretty face is a fucking dumbass, man.  Me, Bobby, our friends, other hunters, we know the truth.  You’re a_ hero _, long lashes and kissable lips and all._

 _Speaking as someone who knows_ exactly _how badass you are, I love how you’ve been lately—young and beautiful and carefree._ That’s _the big brother I want to see, not one who’s pretending to be someone he’s not to impress a bunch of strangers.  Hell, I’d love it even more if you let yourself stop aging and got rid of your scars, which I know you can do.  Then you’d be like how I see you—perfect and gorgeous and all_ mine _._   I tugged him up onto his feet and kissed him deeply.

He put his arms around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder.  _Don’t ya think people might notice if my scars suddenly disappeared and I never got older?  Particularly once_ you _get older than I look now?_

 _The scars themselves are more likely to draw the wrong kind of attention, dude,_ I pointed out.  _I’m a bit worried someone here might figure out we’re hunters because of them, and I doubt_ that _will go over well in a place like this.  But we’re never around normal people long enough, so the only people who might wonder about the lack of scars or aging would be other hunters.  We can always use Cas to explain those away, or my psychic powers or something._

_And don’t worry about me.  If you do this, so will I.  I can see if your healing factor will work on me for more than just injuries.  Or I can find out if my own abilities can do as much as Bobby theorized they can._

“I’ll hafta think about this first.  Most of my scars are kinda a part of me now—I don’t need to think about ‘em to make sure they still show up after a shift.  So it’d be fucking weird to not have ‘em anymore, like how I looked right after I got outta Hell.”  He pushed away and walked back inside.

I followed him inside.  “Your scars aren’t what defines you.  They’re just a reminder of all the bad shit we’ve gone through.  So think of this as a new beginning—we saved the goddamn world, and we deserve a clean slate.  You’ll still be _you_ without them, maybe even a better, happier you.”

Dean shrugged.  “Maybe you’re right, Sammy.  I guess I’m so used to hiding what I am, even after all these months.  The scars were part of the camouflage, ‘cause they’re what a normal human would have after the crap we’ve survived.  Even being here, not having to use the damn eye drops, being able to shift if I want, feels fucking surreal.  But like you said, maybe it’s time to stop hiding, especially around you.”

I put a hand on his shoulder.  “It’s your call, big brother.  Either way, you know I love you, with or without the masks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got home from our vacation a lot later than expected last night, so I couldn't post this update until this morning. The remaining updates will be posted on Friday evenings since I'm starting a new job tomorrow. I haven't been able to get much writing down the past couple of weeks due to the vacation and getting ready for it, but I hope to get back to it regularly now. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes into heat while the boys are on their honeymoon . . .

We spent the next several days exploring the different fun options the resort had to offer.  We went snorkeling and scuba diving off a nearby reef, spent a morning being pampered at the spa and the afternoon hiking and picnicking in the island’s wilderness area, and learned how to windsurf.  Plenty of time was still spent relaxing, hanging out with other guests or by ourselves.  And of course we made love as often as we wanted—this _was_ our honeymoon, after all.

Our sixth day there started off normally enough.  I woke my husband up with a sloppy blowjob, which he gladly reciprocated.  We went on our morning run around the island, made out in the shower, and then enjoyed an unhurried breakfast of French toast and fresh fruit.  Afterwards we walked over to the Lodge, where we spent the morning at the pool, swimming and lounging, and had a lunch of wings and sliders at the Pool Bar.

Dean started acting strangely towards the tail end of the morning and throughout lunch.  He seemed unable to stay still, constantly swimming or pacing or fidgeting, and had the attention span of a ferret hopped up on Red Bull.  And he was all over me, far more handsy in public than normal.  I had a good idea what was behind his odd behavior this time, so I dragged him back to our bungalow after we’d finished eating.

Once we were in our bedroom, I sat him down in a chair and stuck the thermometer from our medical kit in his mouth.  Once the three minutes of squirming and groping were up, I pulled it out and held it up to the light.

“Dude, what’s with the Dr. Quinn routine?” he demanded while idly stroking my thigh.  “I ain’t feeling sick!”

“Your temperature is a couple degrees higher than normal, you’ve been acting twitchier than a Chihuahua on speed, and you’ve committed more PDAs in the past two hours than you usually do in an entire month.  You’re going into heat again,” I told him.

“Sonofabitch!  Really?”  He eyed me curiously.  “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’ve been expecting it to happen sometime soon.  If your heats are cyclical, it’s been nearly six months since your first one, and that could be an appropriate interval.  If their occurrence is more situational, well, we couldn’t ask for better circumstances than here.  So I came prepared, just in case.”

I went to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled a small bottle out of one of the pockets of my duffle bag.  “Bobby got the recipe for this off of a white witch, who in turn learned it from a skinwalker shaman.  A full dose daily will completely suppress your heat, and there’s enough here to last for about two weeks.  A half dose will lessen the symptoms but not completely stop the heat.

“So we’ve got a few options on how to handle this situation.  We can let your heat progress as normal.  I can call the concierge to cancel our other plans for the next three to four days and have all our meals sent here.  I brought our collection of toys, so you don’t have to worry about wearing me out.  Second option is to try the half dose of the potion and see if that will control the heat enough that you can still enjoy the rest of the resort.  Or you can take the full amount, and we deal with your heat after we leave here.”  I held the bottle out to him.

My brother took it, opened it, and carefully sniffed the contents.  _Huh!  What d’ya think, Sam?_

I sat in the other chair.  _I don’t think blocking it completely is the best idea.  Taking care of your heat here is a lot safer than in some random place on our way back to Sioux Falls.  It’d be different if we were in the middle of a hunt, which is primarily why I wanted the stuff.  I’m fine with either of the other choices.  A few days of wild sex is_ hardly _a bad thing on our honeymoon, or we can try tempering it so we can still do other things too._

He looked down and was quiet, fiddling with the bottle in his hands.  After a few minutes, he met my gaze again.  _If it’s okay with you, we’ll let this thing go like normal for a day or two, and then I’ll try this potion at half-strength.  Sorry that this is gonna mess up our plans for the next coupla days._

I reached over and put my hand over his.  _Don’t be, Dee!  I’m not going to complain about doing nothing but make love to you for two days straight!  There’ll still be plenty of time to do whatever else we want before this trip is over.  There are_ far _worse times and places for your heat to happen._

“Okay, kiddo.  I guess this is still the early stages, so we don’t need to go on house arrest just yet.  I hafta burn off some of this excess energy though, so I’m gonna go on another run and maybe check out the fitness center.”  Dean rose and placed the bottle on top of the dresser.

“I’ll call Jacques to reschedule our activities for the next two days and arrange for in-room dining only.  I’ll also make sure all the toys are charged and we have all the supplies here we’ll need.  When I’m done, I’ll meet you at the fitness center.  We can go to the spa again afterward—I think a massage or some time in the sauna will help calm you down.”  I stood as well, placed a hand on his waist, and drew him in for a tender kiss.

“You’re the best, Sammy.  I dunno what I’d do without you!”

“We’re brothers _and_ husbands—it’s our job to take care of each other.”  I kissed him again.

He got changed and left for his run.  I called the concierge desk and spoke to the djinni to make the necessary changes to our plans.  I unpacked the various sex toys I’d brought, cleaned them, and checked that their batteries were fresh.  I then waited for Luis to deliver refills to our stock of drinks and snacks and extra bedsheets and towels.

Once the bungalow was prepared, I made my way over to the stucco building which housed the fitness center and spa.  Inside the fitness center, I found my husband using the elliptical machine.  Normally Dean was about as interested in working out at a gym as he was in reading the dictionary.  Today, however, he was determined to tire himself out and threw himself on the cardio and weight machines.  I followed my own routine at a more measured pace.

After a quick shower in the changing room, we went to the spa.  I’d called ahead before leaving our bungalow to schedule services I felt would help the other man relax.  So we both enjoyed a deep tissue massage followed by an Ayurvedic oil massage, their “gentleman’s” facial, and a couples’ hot bath with flower petals and aromatic oils.  By the time we left, Dean’s mood and movements were tranquil and languid.

Upon returning to our bungalow, we had a lovely dinner of locally-caught seafood and then watched _The Book of Eli_ in the living room.  My brother was feeling a little restless again by that point, so we undressed and walked out to the hot tub with a couple bottles of beer.  We didn’t turn on any of the outdoor lighting, other than a handful of candles I lit with a flick of my fingers, but the nearly full moon easily illuminated the area.  We had a clear view of the lagoon our small beach opened onto as we sank into the roiling water of the tub.

Dean immediately moved onto my lap and slid down around my cock.  Once he was seated with me fully sheathed inside though, all he did was lay his arms over my shoulders and raise his lips to mine.  We exchanged long, slow kisses for several minutes, occasionally alternating them with sips of our beers.  Eventually he put his bottle down and began gently rocking his hips and squeezing his inner walls around my member.  I wrapped my hands around his waist and started giving him short little strokes, just enough to brush against his pleasure spot.  We continued to kiss and move lightly together like this for a while.

I pulled my mouth away and looked into my lover’s wide eyes.  _How are you feeling, Dee?_

_Not too bad, at least compared to last time.  We know what to expect, and tiring myself out and going to the spa earlier both helped.  This right now feels_ real _fucking good!_   He bit his full lower lip and rolled his pelvis a little faster.

I groaned at that, and my thrusts became rapider and deeper.  I felt his desire deepening, getting hungrier, and his motions turned more forceful, lifting himself up and plunging down onto my shaft.  His head dropped back as he rode me more and more passionately, and my fingers dug into his midsection as I drove up into him just as energetically.  Finally he bit down on my shoulder and clamped tight around my cock as his climax shivered through him, which caused me to shout and cum inside him.

“Do you want more, big brother?” I asked, and received a quick nod in response.

I slipped out from underneath the smaller man and pushed him against the wall of the hot tub, so that his chest was bent over the lip.  I positioned myself behind him on the seat and pushed back inside, gliding in and out of his snug passage with long strokes.  He gripped the edge of the tub and pressed back against me in synch with my thrusts, gasping out a curse or my name whenever I hit his prostate.  I watched the water churn around us violently as my cock pounded into his tiny hole over and over and felt him clench around me each time he called out.  The rhythmic sound of my hips slamming into his ass could be heard over the jets of the hot tub.

Dean soon cried out and trembled through another orgasm.  I kept surging into him vigorously, reveling in the slick feel of his passage, which was hotter than the water surrounding us.  I kept one hand on his hip and slid the other around to encircle his member and jerk him off.  He mewled and pled as his senses hit overload, but I continued to hammer into him relentlessly, not wanting either of our pleasures to end.  After a few minutes more, he screamed and shivered through a final climax.  I thrust a couple more times before shooting my load deep into his channel.

I curled an arm around his waist and turned so that I was once again sitting with my back against the tub’s wall.  My husband leaned against me bonelessly, his head lolling against my shoulder and his chest vibrating against mine.  After resting like this for a bit, we got out of the hot tub, dried off, and staggered off to bed.

***

I awoke the next morning to an impossibly hot mouth wrapped around my shaft, with a raspy tongue periodically swirling around it.  Dean smiled despite his lush mouth being filled when I opened my eyes and looked down at him, and he began to hum _Good Times Bad Times_ as he sucked.  I moaned at the amazing sensations surrounding my cock and dropped a hand down to comb through his dark blond hair.  He slid his mouth up and down my length, pausing on the upstrokes to suckle on my glans and tongue my slit.  My control was never great right after waking, and I soon gasped and came in that talented mouth.

My brother swallowed and grinned at me as he moved up the bed to flop down beside me.  I could tell right away that his heat had started in earnest.  The wild look he had sported the first time—slitted pupils, pointed ears, sharp teeth, retractable claws—was back.  His fair skin was hotter than normal, and his green eyes were glazed with desire.  Even his scent was different, rich and heady, and of course his cock was hard and weeping.

Despite his obvious need, he didn’t pounce on me but instead said, “Wakey wakey, baby boy.  You should get up and have some breakfast.  You’re gonna need to keep your strength up today!”

I sat up.  “Are you sure you don’t need me to first . . . ?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me right now.  I was . . . um, _proactive_ this morning when I woke up.”  He gestured toward his groin, and I heard a faint buzzing.  He spread his legs enough to show the base of the anal plug nestled there before continuing, “I wasn’t gonna disturb you, but then you started rocking some _gorgeous_ morning wood, and I couldn’t resist!”

“You’re awesome, Dee, you know that?”

“Eh, it ain’t a big deal.  I know what’s going on this time, so I don’t hafta be so frantic.  Now c’mon.”  He slid off the bed and walked out of the room.

As I followed him to the deck, I noticed that his feline attributes seemed more pronounced with this second heat.  His tongue had felt rougher than before, and the points of his ears were longer.  His emerald irises were wider, with less white showing around them than usual.  And in the morning sunlight, I could see a faint dappled pattern in his tawny hair.

Dean caught my scrutiny and grimaced.  “Yeah, yeah, I know.  I look even more like a fucking Thundercat this time!”

I smiled as I sat down.  “I think it’s kind of hot.  Not something I’d want to see every day, but for a once in a while thing, I rather like it.  Though I _am_ curious about why your appearance is even more feral now.  Maybe these traits don’t express themselves fully during the first heat, so this is a normal development.  Or maybe it’s because you’re more relaxed or something.  We’ll have to see what happens next time.”

He rolled his eyes.  “You’re a kinky little bastard sometimes, man.  And a giant nerd _all_ the time!”

It soon became obvious from his wriggling after he sat at the table that the toy alone wasn’t going to be sufficient.  I held one hand out to him and dropped the other to my groin, which was still half-erect.

The other man shook his head stubbornly.  “Uh uh, you need to eat first before we start fucking.  I can wait ‘til then.”

“And we’re not going to yet.  But it’s obvious you need more right now than just the plug.  So c’mere,” I insisted.

He twitched in his seat and whined, then got up and came over to my side of the table.  I kept stroking myself as he approached and indicated for him to bend over once he was close enough.  He braced his hands on the table and complied, keeping his legs apart.  I grasped the base of the butt plug and pulled it out partway; it was the largest of the plugs we owned, wide enough to stretch his anus fully and long enough to vibrate against his prostate nicely.  I pushed it in and out a couple of times and listened to him whimper at the stimulation.  I then removed it completely, turned it off, and set it down on a napkin.

I looked at his gaping entrance for a moment, watching his clear slick drip from the pink opening.  Before he could complain about the emptiness, I tugged him down onto my stiff cock, hissing slightly at how incredibly snug and warm he felt.  I left one hand spread just above his pubic region to keep his pelvis still and used the other to drag his plate over next to mine.

“Does this feel better, love?” I asked, while flexing my hips just enough to make my cock shift inside him.

“Yeah, Sammy, that’s good,” he sighed as he leaned against my chest.  “Think I can concentrate on my food too now instead of only on my crotch.”

Dean grabbed his utensils and dug into his omelet, hash browns, and fried plantains.  I glanced down at him and realized that his skin was clear of any marks except his freckles and anti-possession tattoo—all his scars were gone, including the handprint on his shoulder, and even his crow’s feet and the lines on his forehead and near his nose were barely visible.  I brushed a finger down his cheek, which was as soft as when he was a boy.

“You did it—you got rid of your scars and lines,” I murmured, pressing my lips to his neck.

“Huh?  Oh yeah.  Well, since right now trying to maintain anything that ain’t part of the . . . uh, factory settings is a pain in the ass, it’s easier to not bother trying to keep those.  And since you prefer me with no facial hair, I decided to just stop it altogether.”  He gave me a tentative look through his long lashes.  “D’ya like it?”

After I kissed him hungrily in response, he laughed.  “Calm down, Casanova!  We gotta finish breakfast first, remember?  And we need to find out if you can do this too, ‘cause I ain’t gonna run around with this baby face all by myself, dude!”

“Okay, okay!”  I reluctantly turned my attention to my plate. 

Once the food was gone, I urged both of us onto our feet without pulling out.  My brother shoved the dishes aside and bent over, propping his elbows on the table.  I placed my hands on his hips and began thrusting steadily, plunging into his channel as deeply as possible.  I quickly built up speed until I was slamming into him hard enough to rock the entire table and shake its contents.  He grunted and pushed back each time my pelvis hit his ass, his passage tightening enticingly around my shaft.

It wasn’t long before he was panting and keening whenever my cock hit his sweet spot.  I continued my relentless pace, driving us both closer and closer to culmination.  Making love to Dean always felt wonderful, but doing so during his heat intensified everything, made him even hotter and tighter and wetter than usual.  And beyond the heightened physical sensations, there was feeling his almost desperate passion and need, accompanied by equally increased affection and gratitude. 

I started to reach the peak of my pleasure but managed to hold back from tipping over.  I reached under my lover’s body to strip his member.  He swore at the added stimulation, and after a few strokes he cried out, spurting over my fingers and squeezing hard around my cock.  I let loose at that point, cumming into his passage with a loud groan.

I collapsed back into my chair and stretched my arm out for a napkin.  Dean caught my hand first and licked my sticky fingers clean, then dropped to his knees to do the same to my groin.  My cock perked up happily as his tongue rasped over its length.  Once I was cleaned up and showed no signs of softening, he pulled me upright.

“Inside, Sam.  _Now_.”  With that, he proceeded to lead me back to our bedroom.

As soon as we were inside, he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself on his hands and knees.  He pressed his head and shoulders into the pillows and arched his back, presenting me with a lovely view of his perfect ass.  I wasted no time in getting on the bed behind him and sliding into his welcoming hole.  Once I was fully seated inside his channel though, I paused to rub my hands soothingly down his back.

_How do you want this?  Do you want me to give you my cock nice and slow, or do you need a fast, hard fucking?_ I crooned.

He hummed and leaned back into me.  _Hard, baby!  Need you to pound my ass!_

_As you wish!_

I grabbed hold of his hips tightly and drove into him forcefully, setting an inexorable speed with my strokes.  When we first became lovers, I constantly asked if he was alright, so used to having to be careful with more delicate partners.  But there was no need to hold back with Dean, who enjoyed taking my size and strength and always came back for more.  In this case, he merely braced his hands against the headboard and angled his pelvis so that every thrust grazed his prostate, moaning blissfully.

His pleased noises encouraged me to ride him even harder, digging my fingers into his hipbones tight enough to bruise and pounding into his passage at a punishing rate.  My husband swore breathlessly and threw himself back on my cock each time I plunged into him.  The bed was too well constructed to creak, but the canopy swayed around us as we crashed together repeatedly.  Within a couple of minutes, he shouted and shuddered through his climax. 

I didn’t stop, however, and kept hammering deep into his channel.  He mewled beneath me, begging for more, and I gave it to him.  I was drenched with sweat and panting for breath, and I’d never felt more alive.  I rode the wave of our combined ardor until it crashed, tumbling us both into a simultaneous orgasm.  We collapsed onto the pillows, bodies and minds still tangled together, and tried to catch our breaths.

I could tell though than Dean wasn’t quite done yet.  As soon as my muscles stopped trembling, I got up and went over to the sex toys laid out across the dresser.

_I picked up something new I’d like to try on you.  Is that alright?_ I asked as I picked up a particular toy.

_Sure thing, Sammy!  Show me what you’ve got_ , he purred lasciviously.

I knelt between his legs and pushed them up so I could lap up the semen and slick dripping from his entrance onto his perineum and thighs.  Once his skin was clean, I thrust my tongue past the loosened ring of muscle to taste the mingled fluids inside.  I then sat up and fitted the wide silicone ring on one end of the toy over his shaft and snugged it down onto the base so that the bullet vibrator on the underside rested on the center of his scrotum.  The silicone connector was arranged with the ridged side against his perineum and the second bullet vibe sitting on top, and lastly the rubber prostate massager on the other end was inserted into his passage and shifted until it was positioned correctly.

I pressed the switch on the remote, and my brother gasped, his eyes flying open, as the massager and both bullets vibrated to life.  I smirked when his eyes rolled up and his breathing quickened, the toy stimulating his cock, balls, perineum, and prostate all at once.  I decided to do my part to add to this delicious torment, so I wrapped one hand around his member just above the ring and swallowed down his glans.  While I sucked on his cock, I inserted three fingers of my other hand into his channel around the massager and proceeded to slide them in and out.

Dean groaned and fisted his hands in my hair.  He writhed under me from what I’m sure was an overload of sensation, but he made no attempt to pull away.  I continued to suckle on his shaft and thrust my fingers into his passage, occasionally nudging one of the vibrators even closer to a sensitive spot.  Since he’d just had three orgasms in fairly quick succession, he lasted quite a while, cursing and moaning wantonly the whole time.  Eventually his whole body spasmed with a scream, and his seed shot into my mouth.

When I looked up after swallowing, I saw that he’d passed out.  His breathing was deep and even, so I didn’t worry.  I went into the bathroom to rinse myself off quickly and brought out a damp washcloth to wipe my lover down.  I removed the toy and replaced it with the anal plug from before, which I’d cleaned off.  I knew from previous experience that keeping him filled helped him stay calm for longer, and I wasn’t capable of another erection without rest.  As he stirred awake, I made him drink some juice and then let him fall into a proper sleep.  Since I was tired but not drowsy, I lay beside him and read a copy of _The Hunger Games_ borrowed from the Library.

***

The rest of the day proceeded in a similar fashion.  We made love in bed when Dean awoke, then had a lunch of grilled swordfish with mango salsa out on the deck.  Afterward, we had actual sex on the beach (our private one, not either of the public beaches).  When I started to flag, we switched to some of the sex toys.  Once even he was worn out, we cleaned ourselves off in the bamboo outdoor shower and curled up in the hammock for another long nap.  After dinner—steak, asparagus, and potato au gratin—we watched a couple movies, pausing them occasionally to make out and exchange hand and blow jobs.  Then it was back to the bedroom, where I fucked him into the mattress until he couldn’t move and fell asleep buried inside him.

The following morning I woke up to my husband carrying breakfast in on a tray.  After dining on poached eggs, sausages, and johnnycakes, we pushed the tray aside and commenced a leisurely exploration of each other with fingers, lips, and tongues.  He grew impatient of that after a while though, so he pushed me onto my back and rode me enthusiastically until we both came twice.  Afterward, he insisted I rest in the great room while he changed the sheets, so I surfed around on my laptop until he finished tidying up.

Dean came out after about twenty minutes.  He grabbed a couple sodas and a bag of popcorn from the kitchenette before sprawling beside me on the couch.  We spent a couple minutes munching on the popcorn in companionable silence.

_How’re you feeling, Sam?  I ain’t wearing you out too much, am I?_ he asked.

_I’m doing fine.  Don’t worry about me, big brother,_ I assured him.  “What do you want to do next?”

“Let’s go back out onto the deck.  It’s nice to be able to sun myself without turning into a lobster!”

“Okay.  Let me grab some things from the bedroom before joining you.”  I gave him a quick kiss before getting a couple toys and the bottle of lube.

When I walked out onto the deck, I found the other man lying on his stomach on the daybed, basking in the morning sun.  I lubed up his favorite big blue vibrator, spread his cheeks, and slipped it into his channel.  He sighed in contentment as I turned it on at the middle setting and stretched out beside him.  I then gripped the base of the vibe and began slowly gliding it in and out of his passage.  After a couple of minutes, I turned it up to the second highest setting and kept pushing it in and pulling it out while peppering his shoulders with kisses.  A few more minutes, and the vibe was clicked to its highest setting, and the kisses turned to nipping and sucking at his neck.

He rolled onto his back and looked at me with heated green eyes before murmuring, “More, darling.”

I sat up and slid the toy into him faster, as well as started to jack his cock.  It took only a little longer before he gasped and ejaculated onto his stomach.  I removed the vibrator, pushed his legs up onto my shoulders, and immediately inserted my erect member inside his waiting hole.  I leaned onto my hands, bending my brother almost in half, and thrust into him briskly.  He grabbed his thighs and pulled them tight against his chest, allowing me to plunge into him even deeper.  I drove into his taut passage over and over, listening to him cry out when I stroked against his pleasure spot, until I couldn’t hold back any longer.  As I came, I felt him shake and clench around me in his own climax.

I withdrew, wiped us both off with a towel, and reinserted the vibe, this time on the lowest setting.  Dean returned to his sunbathing with a satisfied purr, and I went down the little beach, across the rocky shoreline, and into the water.  I swam around for a while, then joined my husband on the daybed again to soak up the sun.

After having jerked chicken and yucca fries for lunch, he started to get restive again.  I coaxed him into the water, where I lifted him up in my arms and then onto my cock.  Making love in the lagoon was incredible, surrounded by clear seawater, splashed by soft waves, warmed by tropical sunlight.  We wrapped our arms around each other and rocked into each other, kissing hungrily, until we reached our orgasms together.

We eventually clambered out of the water, and he lay down on one of the loungers by the fire pit.  I grabbed the other toy I’d brought outside and sat beside him.  He pulled his legs up and watched avidly as I lubed up the string of anal beads.  The beads were rubber, nearly two inches across, and there were five on the string.  He hummed in pleasure as I started to slowly push the beads one by one through the tight furl of his entrance.  It took a couple of minutes to insert the whole string, and Dean sighed at the feeling of fullness. 

I then brought out a bullet vibrator, switched it on, and slid it in against the last bead.  He moaned as the vibrations worked their way up the series of beads.  I continued to hold the vibe in place and watched him quiver as the beads pulsated against his anus and prostate.  After a couple minutes, I began stroking his cock with my other hand and bent down to lick at the pre-ejaculate leaking from his slit.  He arched his back as I took as much of his length in my mouth as I could and began bobbing up and down on it.  I occasionally used the ring at the base of the string to pull the last two beads out and push them back in and listened to him whine at the added sensation.

I pulled my mouth away when I heard his breath begin to hitch, heralding his climax, though I kept fondling his shaft.  I removed the vibrator and, as his cum pulsed out, proceeded to pull the anal beads out.  He shouted as the beads rubbed against his sensitive nerves and heightened his orgasm.  My lover fell back against the cushions, completely spent.

“Wow, that . . . that was pretty awesome,” he panted.  “I think I’m done for a while, dude.”

I grinned at him.  “Then I’m doing my job right.  Do you want to go inside and nap some more?”

“Maybe . . . or watch another movie.”  He stretched sensuously and sat up.  “How soon should I take that potion stuff, to see if it’ll work for tomorrow?”

“The instructions Bobby gave me said to take it twice a day, so I’d say sometime after dinner.  Does this mean _you’ve_ actually had enough sex?” I teased.

“Bite your tongue, bitch!” he retorted.  “Just feeling a little stir-crazy.  Our little bungalow is great, but size-wise it’s more Love Shack than Taj Mahal.  So a change of scenery would be nice.  But don’t worry, there’s still plenty of time today to dirty up those fresh sheets!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image at the end is one I commissioned from the talented Kamidiox for this fic. You can see more of her work on DeviantArt: https://kamidiox.deviantart.com/
> 
> Most of the sex toys described here and in There's Nothing I'd Put in Front of You were inspired by the products found on this site: http://www.adameve.com/adult-sex-toys/mens-adult-sex-toys-ch-954.aspx
> 
> Since I was on vacation last week and am sick with the flu this week, I haven't been able to get much writing done recently. But I'll keep plugging away, and in the meantime being home sick means I can post this chapter a little early. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and kudos and comments are highly appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam see how well the heat suppression potion works . . .

I could tell right away the next morning that the partial dose of the heat suppression elixir had worked.  For one, Dean was still asleep and appeared to have slept through the night.  His need normally only allowed him to catch three or four hours of rest at a time, after which he had to wake me or turn to the toys for relief.  So seeing him sleeping peacefully now was a positive sign.  In addition, his skin was not as hot to the touch, and his scent was not as strong.  He still had the feral cast to his features, but I was more concerned with the potion’s effect on his physical well-being and behavior than his appearance.

My husband could use as much rest as he could get, so I quietly slipped out of bed and washed up.  I wasn’t sure what he’d be in the mood for when he awoke, so I only put on a pair of boxers.  I brought the breakfast tray inside and had my fill of oatmeal with cream and fresh fruit, beignets, and some kind of tropical smoothie.  I had to remember to thank the staff for their invisible yet impeccable service over the past few days.

Since I still had some time to myself, I turned my attention to another issue.  Despite how much I adored his currently young and unblemished look, I knew my brother wouldn’t be happy if I remained scarred and continued to age.  Dealing with the scars was the simpler part—I merely tapped into his healing ability to correct the damage to my skin.  Stopping the natural aging process was trickier.  Fortunately, Death’s gift of knowledge still worked, and I figured out how to manipulate my own matter and energy to achieve the result I wanted.  I didn’t attempt to youthen my appearance though, as I was still only twenty-seven and didn’t want to end up looking like a college student again.

Dean wandered out just as I was finishing up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.  He slumped beside me and mumbled, “How long you been up?”

“Not long—less than an hour.”  I handed him a bowl.  “Here, eat up!  Luckily, I think the dishes are spelled to keep their contents hot or cold as appropriate.  One of the benefits of staying at a supernatural resort, I guess!  How are you feeling?”

He stuffed half a pastry in his mouth and stirred his porridge before answering.  “Definitely better, dude.  Still feeling horny, but it ain’t overwhelming like before—more like how I feel when I can actually take a break.  Not feeling so hot and itchy either.  Though I still look like a damn _nekomimi_ character!”

“Well, we couldn’t be in a much safer place for you to go out like this.  Most of the people here know you’re a shifter, but at the same time none of them know who we _really_ are.  And trust me, anyone staring at you now _isn’t_ doing it because they think you look weird.  I’m going to have to beat horny assholes away from you with a stick,” I said dryly.  “So what _would_ you like to do when we leave the bungalow?”

“Hmm . . . maybe a sailboat excursion—they look fun.  But not a fishing one.  Our jobs involve too much fucking killing as it is, and I don’t wanna spend my vacation time picking on some poor fish.”

“You’re such a softy!”

“Shuddup!  I’m perfectly happy having Flounder or Sebastian for lunch, but I ain’t catching ‘em.”  He paused and looked at me anxiously.  “You sure you’re okay with me going out like this, Sam?  I mean, my normal flirting is one thing, but with this heat shit messing everything up—”

“Stop, Dee.  I _trust_ you.  You’re strong enough not to allow your hormones to force you into anything, and I _know_ you’d never cheat on me.  There’s how others might react, but I think the two of us can handle any drooling suitors.  So go ahead and flirt with Miko or Edith or whoever else you’d like.  And make sure to hit on that dumbass Don a _lot_!”

“Dammit, you almost made me shoot oatmeal outta my nose!”  Dean finished eating and set his bowl down.  “Before we go anywhere, c’mere.  I might not be in nympho-mode anymore, but we’re _still_ on our honeymoon.”

With that, he tugged me back into the bedroom, where he showed his appreciation of the changes I just made by kissing and fondling the location of every former scar.  After getting each other thoroughly sweaty and sticky, we showered, dressed, and walked to the Lodge. 

My brother flushed self-consciously every time someone stared on the way to the main building, though he relaxed when I put an arm around his waist while we waited in the lobby.  Once he was free, we talked to the concierge about reserving one of the sailboats later in the day.  We then decided to get drinks and hang out in the Salon for a while.

We were just sitting down with our mai tais when I heard Edith coming up behind us.  “Sam, Dean, _there_ you are!  I was starting to worry when I hadn’t seen either of you in a couple of days, especially when Jacques told me you were taking all your meals in your bungalow.  I mean, I _do_ understand it’s your honeymoon, but it still seemed a bit o—Oh my!”

Dean smiled uncomfortably as she took in his appearance.  “Sorry, I came down with a . . . um, hormone imbalance thing.  Me and Sam had to stay in to deal with it.”

“He’s starting to feel better today, so we decided to get out for a bit,” I added.  “It’s really nice that you were concerned about us.”

“I understand.  I’ve heard weres and skinwalkers talk about their heats before.  There’s no need to be embarrassed—it’s a natural thing.”  She eyed him appreciatively.  “And I must say, this look rather suits you.”

He gave her a more natural smile.  “Thanks.  This is only the second time it’s happened, so we’re still getting used to it.”  He glanced over her shoulder.  “Hey, hold on a sec—there’s something I gotta take care of over there.”

He got up and sauntered over to the other side of the room, where Don was conversing with Susan.  I couldn’t make out what my brother did, but the male vampire stomped off after a few minutes with a red, disgruntled face, leaving Dean looking smug and the skinwalker confused.  He whispered something to her that made her laugh.

Edith watched this exchange with a resigned expression.  “Oh dear!”

“Do you need to go after him?” I asked.

“Donald’s a big boy, and he needs to learn how to handle things better.”  She waved a hand dismissively in his direction.  “It’s good if your husband talks to Susan.  I’m sure she can give him insights into his situation.  I take it neither of you grew up in the community?”

I shook my head.  “My parents were both human.  My dad didn’t know anything about the paranormal until my mom died.  We didn’t have much contact with other shapeshifters after he found Dean, so we had to figure out everything on our own.”

“Most hunters seem to start out that way.  It wasn’t impossible to figure out—your scars, the way you both move, your knowledge of the supernatural but not the community,” she explained in response to my startled look.  “Don’t worry—I don’t plan to mention this to anyone here.  He may be flighty, but Loki wouldn’t bring you here if you were a threat.  And it’s obvious that you’re here simply to enjoy yourselves, not cause trouble.

“You have to realize that the community has an . . . _uneasy_ relationship with hunters in general.  You provide a valuable service in removing the troublemakers before they can draw too much attention and potentially expose the rest of us.  But too many hunters don’t care to differentiate between those who are actually dangerous and those of us who just want to live peacefully.  I must admit though, I’ve never heard before of hunters who weren’t human themselves.”

“I appreciate your discretion and understanding, Edith.  We really _are_ here just for our honeymoon.  And we don’t hunt anyone or anything who isn’t harming others,” I said earnestly.  “But I get your concern.  My dad was mostly in the ‘all supernatural is evil’ camp, and we’ve met hunters that were far worse. 

“But we also know others who are more like us too.  They know and accept what Dean and I are, and some of them have worked with other non-humans as well.  It could be beneficial to _both_ sides to learn more about each other and see how we can help each other out.”

“It could be, but it’s not a decision I can make on my own.  I do _like_ both of you, but I don’t think we know each other well enough yet to trust one another with secrets that could put ourselves or others at risk,” she replied soberly.  “Perhaps we can try to stay in touch after this and truly get to know each other.  Then we can see about expanding on your suggestion.”

“I understand.  And I’d love to keep in contact regardless.  We lose a lot of friends the hard way in this lifestyle, so I’m not going to turn down the opportunity to make a new one,” I told her.

Dean wandered back over and curled up beside me.  “Whatcha discussing so seriously?”

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  “Edith figured out we’re hunters, though she knows we’re not here to . . . work.  We’re talking about keeping up with each other after we leave here.  If that works out, she could introduce us to the supernatural community, and we can introduce them to the more open-minded hunters.  I think there’s a lot we can do for each other.”

“Huh!  Well, I know Sammy and I like you, and it’d be awesome to stay friends.  And it’d gimme more chances to educate your hubby on how to _not_ be a dick,” he said with a grin, before stealing the pineapple from my cocktail.  “As for the rest, anything that could make our jobs easier and all our lives safer sounds great.  If nothing else, there’s a whole lot we can learn from each other.”

***

We chatted for a while on lighter topics, and Edith continued to sit with us through lunch.  We spent the afternoon sailing around the island on one of the resort’s catamarans, swimming, snorkeling, and learning from its crew how the boat worked.  After stopping at our bungalow to wash and change, we went to the Dining Room for dinner, where we shared a surf-and-turf platter for two.  Afterwards was dancing on the verandah outside the Salon.  Dean had become less embarrassed about his appearance over the course of the day and thus was able to enjoy the attention he received from other dancers.

It was close to midnight by the time we walked back to the bungalow.  We’d been feeling a little tipsy when we left the Lodge, but the fresh island air and bright moonlit sky soon cleared our heads.  My husband disappeared into the bathroom with a warning not to follow him in.

Anticipating that he was preparing a sexy surprise, I undressed and put away my things.  I set numerous candles on the nightstands, dresser, and reading table and turned off the lamps in the room after lighting them with a thought.  I tied long silk scarves to the posts of the bed and set my iPod to softly play some of his favorite rock ballads.  I then sat on the bed to wait.

My breath caught when the other man entered the bedroom shortly after and slowly turned in place to give me a full view of his outfit.  He was clad in a red satin and lace G-string, which strained over his heavy cock and left most of his curved ass bare, except for the lace butterfly nestled at the top of his buttocks.  Matching red lace and ribbon collar and cuffs were wrapped around his throat, wrists, and ankles.  His only other adornments were his wedding ring and amulet.  His face was minimally made up, just mascara, smoky eyeliner, rosy lip gloss, and a hint of perfume.

 _Fuck, Dee,_ I whispered as he moved within reach.  _You look . . . you look_ so _hot!_

He shrugged almost shyly.  _Yeah, well, it’s our honeymoon, so I figure it still counts as a special occasion . . ._

Dean placed his hands on my shoulders and bent his head to kiss me.  I put my hands around his waist and opened my mouth, and his tongue slipped in to dance around mine.  We exchanged several deep kisses, until I maneuvered myself back so that I was sitting up against the headboard, pulling him along with me.  He shifted position to end up in my lap, his lace-covered groin rubbing against mine.  As we frotted together, I let my lips wander down his neck to suck a mark at the base, while he caressed my pectoral muscles and nipples.

Before our pleasure could get too close to peaking, I lifted the smaller man up and slid him down onto my cock, the string between his legs rubbing against my length.  He immediately began to rise up and sink down on it, the smooth walls of his passage contracting around me.  I kept my hands on his middle and thrust up into him, stroking his prostate with each pass.  He fitted his lips to mine, and we gasped and sighed into each other’s mouths as he rode me steadily.

We moved together for a long time, neither of us in a rush to reach completion.  Eventually though, I felt my climax approaching, so I dropped a hand onto his member to strip it rapidly through the front panel of the G-string.  He cried out and slammed down onto me, his seed pulsing over the filmy fabric, moments after I came deep inside him.  I slid down until we were resting on the pillows and listened to him rumble contentedly on top of me.

 _Did ya ever think before that our lives would end up like this, that things would turn out so good?_ my lover wondered.  _‘Cause sometimes . . . I dunno, it feels like I’m dreaming all this up or something!_

 _I know what you mean, man.  It’s almost hard to believe this is all real, that we could be so happy after everything we’ve been through,_ I replied. _I wanted ‘normal’ for so long because I couldn’t imagine a way to find the peace and joy I needed in the lives we had._

_And yet, here we are, Sammy!_

_I know, I know._ I sighed.  _I still wish sometimes that we could’ve found a way to really_ talk _to each other the way we can now long before this.  Then maybe we would’ve found each other and made ourselves this happy before the Apocalypse started, before your deal, before losing Dad, maybe even before I left for Stanford._

 _There’s no point in worrying ‘bout coulda or shoulda.  ‘Cause unless we can fit Baby with a flux capacitor, there ain’t much we can do about shit that happened before,_ he pointed out.  _We just gotta enjoy what we’ve got now.  And do whatever it takes to protect it._

I rolled us over and looked down into those wide green eyes in the glimmer of candlelight.  _How did you get to be so wise, big brother?_

Long sooty lashes swept down demurely.  _Dunno . . . I guess you bring out the best in me, little brother!_

I reached down to kiss him softly.  He smiled up at me and ran gentle fingers through my hair.  I rested my head on his chest and sighed as he continued to play with my hair.

After a few minutes, I pushed myself up.  “Do you trust me, Dee?”

He gave me a surprised glance.  “’Course, Sammy!  You don’t hafta ask that!”

“Then I’d like to try to use these on you, if you’ll let me.”  I picked up the end of one of the silk scarves.  We hadn’t tried restraints since the night of Dean’s assault, so I was nervous about his reaction.

As he eyed the scarf, I explained, “I’ll use quick-release knots so that you can untie yourself whenever you want.  And we’ll pick a safe word that you can use the moment you want everything to stop.  I—I know we’ve haven’t done anything like this in a while, but I hope you’re ready to experiment a little.”

Dean was quiet for a couple minutes before nodding.  “Let’s try it.  I trust you, sweetheart.  And if I do start to feel hinky, I’ll say ‘Poughkeepsie,’ okay?”

I kissed him again in relief before pulling off and standing beside the bed.  “Would you prefer to be face up or down?”

“Uh, lemme try being on my stomach.  You haven’t gotten a good look at the back of this thing,” he replied as he rolled over and wiggled his butt.

I went around to each corner of the bed to fasten the scarves around his wrists and ankles.  I made the loops just tight enough to not slip easily over his hands and feet, and I made sure the ends of the knots were near his fingers if he wanted to tug them loose.  I checked on him when I was done and was relieved to see him lying still and relaxed, his breathing even and his face calm.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked.

He tried to crane his neck around to look at me.  “Doing fine, kiddo.  You gonna join me here or what?”

I climbed back on the bed between his spread legs and paused to admire the view.  His long limbs were stretched out gracefully, the black silk wrapped around each wrist and ankle standing out against his pale skin.  His tousled gold hair fell over the top edge of the red satin and lace circling his neck.  His broad shoulders and chest tapered down to a narrow waist and lean hips, all of it speckled with cinnamon freckles.  The red lace butterfly on the back of his panties sat above the sweet swell of his ass, held in place by satin ribbons running over his hips and between his cheeks.

I leaned down between his firm thighs to lick at the cum seeping out of his pink hole onto the red satin.  Dean twitched in surprise at the first touch of my tongue and then tried to push back as I slid it into his entrance.  He moaned happily as I lapped at his rim until the ribbon was wet with saliva.  I then spread his cheeks and ran my tongue up the thin strip of fabric there.  I straightened when I reached the lacy butterfly and palmed his hips up a little so that I could push my cock into his taut passage.

My husband gasped as I sank into him up to the hilt and then hummed happily as I lay down along his back and pressed kisses into his nape.  He continued to purr with pleasure as I curled my hands under his shoulders and started to flex my hips, gliding my shaft back and forth against his sweet spot.

 _You like this, baby?  Still feeling good?_ I crooned.

 _Y—yeah, Sammy!_ Ahh _, your cock is filling me up so good!_ he panted.  _Don’t stop!_

I kept rolling my pelvis, luxuriating in the sensation of being enveloped in his slick, tight heat and in his love and trust.  I kissed along his shoulders and murmured endearments as I pumped in and out of his velvety channel.  He in turn tried to raise his ass up in time with my thrusts to let me slip in even deeper.  I noticed that he was gripping the silk above the knots tightly but making no effort to pull loose.

We surged and ebbed together over and over, taking tender enjoyment of each other.  He chanted my name each time he squeezed around me, and I nipped and nibbled up the column of his neck and around the shell of his ear.  I began to pick up the pace of my strokes, and he muffled his shouts into the pillows.  Not long after that, he shook and clamped around me in ecstasy, and my orgasm followed after a few more thrusts.  I reached down to free his ankles, while he tugged the knots on his wrists loose.  I then turned both of us onto our sides and draped an arm around his waist.

I dropped a kiss onto the point of his shoulder.  _Was that good for you, Dee?_

His chest vibrated with satisfaction.  _That was pretty awesome, dude!  The silk felt better than the cuffs we used before—it was more comfortable and . . . and intimate.  We can_ definitely _do this again, baby boy._

_I’m happy to hear that.  So . . . did you bring any more panties?_

_You’ll hafta wait to find out!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last chapter that's mostly just fluff and smut. The next ones will have a bit more substance, though they're still part of the boys' happy ending.
> 
> I've noticed that this story hasn't generated as much in the way of comments or other activity so far. Are you readers still enjoying this series? Are things just slow because it's summer or other reasons? Please let me know what you think. My writing is still in a slump as I'm getting over the flu, so I could really use a pick-me-up (or a dose of reality) to get going again. Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys discuss making a big change . . .

We were sitting out on our beach a couple nights later.  Dean’s heat had ended, so we spent the day in Key West.  We took the ferry early in the morning back to Little Torch Key, since my brother looked nauseous at the thought of using the sea plane.  After reuniting with the Impala, we drove to Key West and visited various attractions, such as Ernest Hemingway’s house and the Shipwreck Treasures Museum, ate at a couple of local restaurants, and did some shopping.  We caught one of the last ferries back to the resort and were now sitting by the lit fire pit, drinking cold beer and watching the stars.

We’d both just opened our second beer when Dean sat up on his lounge chair and gave me a serious look.  “Hey Sam, I got something important I wanna discuss with you.”

I put my bottle down.  “Sure.  What’s up, man?”

He looked down and fiddled with his bottle cap.  “This is something I’ve been thinking ‘bout for a while, since I first considered proposing to you.  We only got a coupla days left here, and I know we talked about taking our time heading back to Sioux Falls—see some sights, take on a coupla hunts, that sorta stuff.  Well, when we do get to Bobby’s place, I wanna . . . I want us to start looking for a house of our own.”

He raised his head and met my eyes.  “Now, I _ain’t_ talking about quitting hunting.  But the world ain’t at risk of ending anytime soon for a fucking change, and neither of us have any shit hanging over our heads either.  So . . . uh, I figure it can’t hurt to slow down a little.  Plus we’ve seen that the way we were brought up, the way we’ve been working since, is more the exception than the rule.  Most hunters are like Bobby and work outta a home base instead of driving all over the damn country all the time.  So I don’t see why _we_ can’t do that too.”

“That’s right—Bobby has the salvage yard, Garth has his house boat, Rufus has his cabin, the Harvelles had the Roadhouse, and so on.  Bobby and Garth have been talking about trying to get us more organized, in fact.  They want to determine where all the hunters are located and figure out a way to send jobs to whoever’s already in the area.  The two of them and maybe a couple others would serve as dispatchers, collecting information on cases and sending them out to the appropriate hunters.  That way, folks can mostly stay close to home, and they wouldn’t need to travel much unless there’s a job that needs a lot more manpower or specialized expertise,” I said thoughtfully.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” he exclaimed.  “We’ve been crisscrossing the lower forty-eight for over _twenty-five fucking years_ , and we deserve a break.  I’ve been _damn_ tired of all the wear and tear for a while, and Baby ain’t getting any younger either.”

“You know I agree with that sentiment—I’ve _never_ been crazy about the lack of stability in our lives.  And of course I’d _love_ to get a house together.  But how?  To qualify for a decent rate, a mortgage company is going to need to see credit scores, financial histories, proof of stable income, et cetera.  Plus there’s a _lot_ of money needed.  Even loans for first-time homebuyers usually require some kind of down payment, and then there’s closing costs, furniture, repairs, and more.  We don’t have _any_ of that, dude,” I replied unhappily.

“I actually got a lotta that figured out.  Like I said, I’ve been considering this for a while now.”  My brother arranged himself in a cross-legged position.  “First off, when I talked to Frank after we got engaged, I had him make us more than just a coupla fake IDs for the marriage license.  It’s still a work in progress, but Dean Smith and Sam Wesson are gonna have complete fucking _identities_ when he’s done.  I’m talking ‘bout Social Security numbers, credit scores, bank records, work histories, you name it.  And Frank knows his shit—he swears that no one’s gonna be able to prove they ain’t legit or trace ‘em back to the real us.  So while the Winchesters would get their asses laughed outta a mortgage broker’s office, the Smith-Wessons are gonna have everything they need to put down roots somewhere. 

“Next, if we do this, we’re gonna hafta get regular jobs too.  Not just to get the loan, but also to cover the payments, utility bills, groceries, and all that shit.  I’ve always been good with my hands, so it should be easy to get a job as a mechanic or carpenter or something.  As for you, I had Frank mirror your transcripts from Stanford, including what you were registered for before you left, and fill in what was missing.  So Sam Wesson has a bachelor’s degree in anthropology from Stanford with the same crazy high GPA and everything.  I’m sure you can get a good position with that, or we can get him to fake up a higher-level degree if you need it.  Or . . . or you can work on getting a graduate degree for real.  I know how much you always enjoyed school.  So, whaddya think so far?”  He looked adorably pleased with himself.

I _was_ impressed.  “Wow, you have put some thought into this!  How would hunting fit into all this?”

“Well, that might be tricky, but we can work something out.  Find jobs that are part-time or have flexible hours, or maybe one of those work-from-home gigs for you.  If the case ain’t urgent, there’s always waiting until the weekend to do any traveling.  I know there’re plenty of options out there, so we just hafta figure out what’ll work for us.”

“There’s still all the upfront money we’d need though.  It’ll take quite a while to hustle a sufficient amount, unless you want to risk doing some high-stakes gambling at Vegas or something,” I pointed out.

Dean’s expression became a bit sheepish.  “Actually . . . I got a buncha money saved up already, man.  Y’see, around when you started high school, I realized that you were plenty smart enough to get into a good college.  But you’d need a lotta money for that, and I didn’t want you loaded down with student loans.  So every time I earned money from pool or cards or darts, or if we stayed someplace long enough to get a job, I put aside as much of it as I could.

“Then whenever we were near Sioux Falls, I gave the money to Bobby.  He knew a financial planner that he’d helped out with a succubus problem.  Dude owed him, so as a favor to Bobby he opened an account for me and invested the money I’d saved up.  I don’t know the details, just that he made sure the investments were secure but still turned a decent profit.

“Anyways, I kept putting money aside and getting it invested even after you got the full ride at Stanford.  It’s how I could always send you money each month for your other expenses, even if I didn’t do well hustling or didn’t have time to work.”

I remembered that money with a pang of guilt—how every month an envelope with five hundred dollars would show up in my campus mailbox without fail.  At the time, I was too young, selfish, and wrapped up in my own issues to worry too much how the money had been earned.  When the money continued to come in even after I instigated that big fight, I felt pleased at the sign that not only was my big brother still alive, but also still cared.  Though it wasn’t enough to force me to mend the rift I’d created.

He continued, not noticing my reaction, “I kept doing it after you left Palo Alto too.  I figured the savings might come in handy in an emergency, like if we ever needed more medical care than our fake insurance could cover.  And I thought that someday, after we took out the goddamn Yellow-Eyed Demon and got past the rest of the shit we were stuck with, you could use the money to start a new life.

“And . . . there’s more in that account than the proceeds from what I earned.  Dad at some point took out a life insurance policy, with Bobby as the executor and you and me as the beneficiaries.  When Dad died, we both were too fucked up to deal with it, so Bobby just invested it with the rest of the money.  So there’s a good pile of dough saved up by now—not enough to buy a place outright, but more than enough for a good down payment, closing fees, and the rest of that shit.”

“Good lord, Dean!  And you never thought to _tell_ me?” I asked, feeling a little upset that he’d hidden this from me.

“If you’re talking about Dad’s insurance, I didn’t know ‘bout it either for the longest time—I was too screwed up after losing him and then too worried ‘bout what was going down with you.  I didn’t tell you ‘bout it later or ‘bout the rest of the money ‘cause you already had too much to deal with—Jess, Yellow-Eyes, my deal, Lilith, Ruby, Lucifer, and all that crap. 

“After we got together though, it was different.  I kept it a secret ‘cause I wanted it to be a surprise, a _good_ one.  I started thinking, _hoping_ that after we stopped the Apocalypse, we could use the money to settle down _together_.  And this is it—I ain’t got any other secrets from you.  You—you ain’t mad at me, are you, Sammy?”  He looked at me worriedly.

I moved over to his chair and pulled my husband into a fierce hug.  “God, Dee, I don’t deserve you!  As usual, you were doing it all for _me_.  You’ve been saving all this up for what, a dozen years, and probably never spent any of it on yourself, did you?”

He ducked his head.  “Eh, it wasn’t supposed to be for me.  I had to use some of it to pay Frank for his services though.  And I did spend some on the wedding too, ‘cause what we scraped up in the past coupla months wasn’t quite enough.  I didn’t wanna use any of the fake cards in case we wanna go back for an anniversary or something.”

“Huh!  I _had_ been wondering how we paid for all that.  So how much is in this account now?”

“Close to seventy-five grand, last I checked.  Should be plenty for twenty percent down and fees as long as the cost is reasonable, with some left over for renovations and furniture.”

“ _Fuck!_   This just went from being a pretty pipe-dream to something real—our own house!  You’re _amazing_!”  I kissed him ecstatically.

Dean blushed and cast his eyes down.  “’S no big deal.  And it wasn’t just me.  We wouldn’t have nearly as much if Dad hadn’t bought and maintained that insurance policy, or if Bobby hadn’t hooked me up with that finance dude.”

“ _You’re_ still the one who thought of all this, _and_ scrimped and saved over the years.  Now come on—I need to show you my appreciation _properly_!”  I grabbed his hand and led him inside.

***

Once in the bedroom, I swiftly undressed him and gently pushed him onto the bed.  I dropped my clothes to the floor and climbed up beside him.  Starting at his hairline, I brushed first my fingertips and then my lips over his skin—forehead, brow, eyelids, cheekbones, nose, mouth, chin, jaw, ears, neck.  When I reached his shoulders, I made my way across one shoulder and down one arm to the fingers and then up and over the other.  I then moved down his clavicle, sternum, nipples, abdomen, navel.  I skirted his groin and worked down one leg to the foot and toes and then up the other.

As I worshipped my way down his body, my lover hummed and sighed and occasionally gasped when I touched a sensitive area.  After I finished his arms, he moved them up so that his fists rested near his head.  Other than that, he managed to stay mostly still during my progress down, other than a small twitch once in a while.  Though by the time I completed the circuit of his legs and headed for his groin, he was whining and trembling from the onslaught of caressing touches.  He gave a loud shout when I finally put my hands on his shaft and testicles and took his glans in my mouth.

I sucked on the head for several moments before swallowing down half his member, and I fondled his balls with one hand and stroked my own cock with the other.  He arched his back and made short thrusts into my mouth, while I curled and flicked my tongue around his length.  It didn’t take long before he was cumming down my throat with a hoarse yell, and I pulsed onto my fingers after a couple more jerks. 

I then rubbed my semen onto my cock, pulled his legs up around my waist, and slid into his moist channel.  I set up a quick pace right away, hitting his prostate on nearly every pass.  Dean moaned and rocked his hips in synch with mine, his inner walls flexing around my shaft.  As I drove into him, I made sure he could feel my joy and admiration and gratitude and, above all, my overwhelming love for this incredible man.

We surged against each other repeatedly, speeding up our movements until we were both crying out.  I pounded into his sweet spot, determined to give him as much pleasure as possible, while savoring his hot, slick passage clenching around me.  He eventually groaned and tightened hard around me, spurting onto his belly, and I plunged once more before orgasming deep inside him.  I collapsed to one side, still tangled with him, and he sprawled on top of me blissfully.

 _Do you know how much I love you, Dee?_ I asked, kissing his temple.

 _As much as I love you, baby boy,_ he responded tenderly, tucking his head into my shoulder.

 _It’s kind of weird to think that we technically haven’t been so poor these past few years.  I’m not complaining—I know your plans for the money were too important to waste it on the occasional dry spell between hustles.  It’s just an_ odd _feeling to know that we have it now though,_ I said.

Dean snorted.  _If you think_ this _is strange, wait ‘til we have a fucking house full of stuff!  But I think this is what Dad woulda wanted for us, to have as normal a life as we can.  He never meant for us to be dragged into hunting for so long, but he kinda lost his way somewhere down the line.  But now we’re_ finally _clear of all the crazy world-ending shit, so we can choose for ourselves._

 _Amen to that!  Wait right here._   I got up, went to the bathroom, and returned with a damp washcloth.

After wiping us both down, I curled up around my brother.  “Since you’ve been planning this for a while, I assume you’ve already thought about what you want in a house, right?”

He settled back against me with a happy sigh.  “Yeah, I’ve got some ideas so far.  But this is gonna be a team effort, so lemme know if you disagree with anything.  Location-wise, I wanna be close enough to Bobby to reach him in less than a day, but not _so_ close that we’re up his ass.  Particularly if he manages to get us hunters organized into territories or something. 

“Someplace that don’t get a lotta snow would be nice, ‘cause we’ve spent too much time freezing our asses off in crappy unheated dumps over the years.  And the salt on the road ain’t good for Baby.  We ain’t city boys, but it seems smart to be close enough to one to visit if we need something.  And someplace with a decent college would be good for you, to find a job or take classes or both.”

“Sounds good so far,” I said.  “I think we should also look for someplace where our marriage will mean something, legally speaking.  We didn’t go through work of having a proper wedding to end up somewhere where we can’t be treated as family, since I assume we’ll be presenting ourselves as spouses instead of brothers.  Unfortunately, most of the places that have legalized gay marriage are pretty cold in the winter.  But there are other states that treat it as a domestic partnership, which has most of the same rights.”

“That’s a good idea, Sam,” he commented.  “As far as the house itself, I’d prefer something older, something with character.  I hate those developments where all the fucking houses look the same—gives ‘em a creepy Stepford vibe.  We probably wanna look into fixer-uppers so we can save some money through sweat equity.  We both know quite a bit from what Bobby taught us and from having to fix up some of the shitholes we’ve stayed at, and I’ve worked construction jobs a few times too.  It’d also be easier to build in the same kinda protections as Bobby’s place if we’re already doing work on the place.

“I figure we’ll want at least one guest room for Bobby or Jody or our other friends to use, a decent-sized kitchen so we don’t hafta live offa take-out, a study for you so you can start your own book collection, and a workshop for me to tinker in.  And a garage for Baby, of course.  There anything you think I missed?”

I thought for a couple of minutes.  “I think that covers most of what we’d want, though I’m sure we’ll come up with more after some research.  We’ll have to be careful with the fixer-upper idea—we don’t have the resources to take on a major gut job.  Oh, and we should try to build in a safe place to store our weapons and anything else we don’t want civilians to come into contact with.”

“Right!  Being able to put in a panic room like Bobby’s would be awesome, but even if that’s not doable, we’ll still need a vault of some kind.  So someplace with a basement that we can retrofit would be best.”

“Remind me to start putting together a list tomorrow of everything we want,” I said with a yawn.  “We’re also going to have to come up with a back-story of who we are, how we met, and all that stuff.”

“I think we should use what you’ve told Edith and expand on that.  It’s close to the truth, and for a cover that we’re gonna hafta maintain for a while, the less we hafta lie the better.  Less chance of fucking up the details or having problems if someone finds an old picture or shit like that,” Dean stated. 

“We can say that Dad was in the military or a salesman of some kind to explain all the traveling, and that he was a close family friend who took me in when my own folks died.  Clear out all the supernatural details, and that should cover most of the stuff until you finished school without having to make too much shit up.  Then we just need to figure out what we were doing for the past few years.  Sounds good?”  He glanced up at me.

“It seems like it could work.  It certainly would be easier than having to pretend we didn’t grow up together.  We’ll have to talk to Frank about forging the necessary documentation to flesh it out.”  I paused as something occurred to me.  “Hey, I know it was a throwaway comment, but do we want to go by Smith-Wesson or keep the names separate?  I think I’d prefer the first, even with how pretentious the whole hyphenation thing usually looks.  I . . . I don’t like the idea of not sharing a name, even if it’s fake.”

My brother patted the hand I had over the center of his chest.  “Don’t worry, kiddo.  I was thinking the same thing, so I . . . uh, told Frank to use that name for anything he made for after the wedding.  Though we’re gonna hafta get used to even _more_ crappy gun jokes.  Douchebag angel probably thought he was _so_ fucking funny!”

“Hey, _you_ decided to use those names, man,” I pointed out.

“The lousy jokes are better than the epic bitch-face you’d be giving me if I used any of our rock star aliases instead, and you know it!  So it was either those or pulling two random last names outta a phonebook,” he huffed.

“Assuming you could even _find_ a phonebook anymore.  Chill out—if I really minded Smith or Wesson, I would’ve said so when you first got the fake IDs.”  I kissed his shoulder soothingly.  “We’ll have to wait until Frank dummies everything up for these new backgrounds before we can do any official house-hunting.  But we can start looking stuff up on our own.”

“But only _after_ we leave here!  We still got two full days left at this resort, and we’re gonna _relax_ ,” he told me sternly.  “I know the wheels in your big brain are already turning, but you can wait until we’re on the road again before going into full research-geek mode.  Got it?”

“Okay, _Mom_.”

He poked me in the ribs at that, which prompted me to stick my tongue in his ear.  War having been declared, we tussled across the bed for several minutes.  I eventually cried uncle after Dean managed to get me in a headlock, used his legs to pin my arms to my torso, and proceeded to noogie the crap out of me.  We fell back against the pillows, and I tried to ignore his smug grin.

I pushed my hair back.  “Jerk!”

“Bitch.”  His grin grew wider.

I sighed and put my arms back around him.  “Right, so . . . uh, where were we?  Oh yeah . . . I have to say, I’m still kind of surprised that _you_ were the one to bring up the idea of getting a house and semi-settling down.  I guess I assumed you’d want to keep hunting full steam ahead until we weren’t able to for some reason.”

His face grew more serious, and he shrugged.  “Don’t get me wrong, Sammy—I still like hunting.  It’s usually fun, as long as we’re not dragged into the middle of some divine political bullshit.  And I’m always gonna wanna help people.  Even if we retire for good someday, I’ll wanna be a firefighter or EMT or something.

“But I also have the first Dean’s memories of having a real home and a normal family life.  I ain’t ever had that myself, but I think I’ve always _wanted_ it, just like you.  Until recently, I didn’t think it was possible for me to have anything like that, so I figured I was gonna keep going on until something killed me.  And I thought that day might not be too far away, ‘cause I was so damn _tired_.  I mean, we’ve been involved in hunting in one way or another for _way_ longer than almost anyone else in this life.

“Being with you changed everything though, darling.  Suddenly there was light at the end of the tunnel, and I realized I _could_ have that dream.  And I needed to do this for _you_ too, ‘cause no matter how much you might wanna get out, you’d never leave this life without me.  So I started working on how to give _both_ of us the happy ending we deserve.  And now here we are!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the boys are wrapping up their honeymoon and now figuring out how they want to settle down . . .
> 
> This chapter is going up a little early because we're going away for Labor Day weekend. Next week's update will resume on Friday evening. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos are highly appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys return to Sioux Falls, and Dean has another surprise for Sam . . .

We spent the next two days enjoying ourselves as much as possible at the resort.  The first day we visited a nearby dolphin research facility and a wildlife refuge, and that night we had a last dinner at the Dining Room and danced on the verandah until the early hours of the morning.  The next day we went wakeboarding and had fun on the beach, while the evening was spent at a romantic private dinner at Solitude Point.  In addition, Dean declared a goal of making love on _every_ surface in and around our bungalow before we left.

The morning of the third day, we packed up all our belongings, which included persuading my brother _not_ to steal any of the towels from the bungalow.  At the Lodge, we bade farewell to our friends among the guests and staff and exchanged contact information with some of them.  We then took the ferry back to the main island and loaded our bags into the Impala.

We could’ve asked Castiel or even Gabriel to transport us directly to Sioux Falls.  But we were in no rush to be anywhere, so we took a meandering route back.  We spent a day each in Key Largo, Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, and Sea World in Orlando.  We helped Garth take down a revenant in St. Louis Cemetery Number One and then hung out with him in New Orleans for an additional couple of days.  After laying to rest a tormented spirit near Galveston, we visited Space Center Houston and attended a Texans game at NRG Stadium.  We stopped at the Dallas World Aquarium and the Dallas Zoo and went to the rodeo in Fort Worth.  A grateful Osage family took us in for a few days to recuperate after we exterminated a pack of chupacabra on the outskirts of Tulsa.  We had lunch with Missouri in Lawrence and barbeque for dinner in Kansas City.  In Des Moines, we visited the Science Center of Iowa and Adventureland Park.

In the midst of our travels, we still managed to devote time to the house hunt.  We researched the entire home buying process, including the ins and outs of mortgages and realtors.  We tried to narrow down some of the criteria for an ideal house.  For geographic location, we ended up choosing the Pacific Northwest coastal area for its liberal domestic partnership laws and temperate climate, even though it was farther from Sioux Falls than we’d like.  (Dean was excited to learn there was a town called Winchester Bay on the Oregon coast, which even had a nearby stream called Dean’s Creek; he was less than happy when I vetoed the idea of living there.)  For house style, we both agreed on Craftsman for its character and simple elegance and for its prevalence in our region of choice.  We also worked on filling in the details of the life and times of the Smith-Wessons and contacted Frank Devereaux to bolster the paper trail to support them.

In all, it was nearly three weeks from when we left Chavah Island by the time we rolled into Singer Auto and Salvage Yard.  We pulled up in front of the house and grabbed our bags out of the car.  After the usual greeting of holy water and silver, the older hunter let us in the door.

“Certainly took you idjits long enough to get here!  I was about ready to send the Mounties out after your asses when you finally called,” Bobby grumbled, before pulling each of us into a hug.  “Drop your bags off in your room and then meet me in the study.”

“We missed you too, man,” I told him with a grin.

After depositing most of our bags in our room, we went down to the study and took our usual seat on the couch in the bay window.  Bobby eyed the one bag we brought with us curiously.

“You boys look good,” he said.  “The tropical air must’ve agreed with you.  I swear you look younger or something.”

Dean coughed and looked a little embarrassed.  “Um, that’s all us, Bobby.  We . . . uh, we decided to drop the scars and aging and shit.  The conversation you had with Sam ‘bout his powers a while back kinda gave us the idea.”

“Well, no need to be uncomfortable in front of me if it was my idea, kid!  And it’s more than that.  You both look more relaxed and happy.  And I ain’t just talking about the goofy, sexed-out look I’d expect after your extended honeymoon.”  Bobby grinned when both of us blushed.

“The resort Gabriel sent us to _was_ spectacular,” I admitted.  “Everything there was amazing—our bungalow, the food, the staff, and all the activities.  It was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime vacation!”

“And no problems with the . . . supernatural element?” Bobby asked gruffly.

“Nah, dude.  Everyone there was cool.  If it wasn’t for how some of ‘em looked and some of the things on the menu, you wouldn’t know it ain’t a _normal_ incredibly swanky resort.  And there _were_ all types there—we met vamps, werewolves, skinwalkers, witches, ghouls, kitsune, and more,” Dean said.

“According to Gabriel, there’s a whole community of supernatural creatures out there, living normal lives.  The ones that we hunters run into are usually their equivalent of the criminal element.  The rest of them do their best to try not to attract attention,” I explained.  “We were skeptical at first, but everyone we talked to at the resort basically backed up his claim.  There’s a whole secret _world_ that we never knew about before, Bobby.  This resort is just one small part of it.”

“And they know about hunters too,” Dean added.  “They kinda have a love-hate relationship with us.  They’re glad when we get rid of the bad apples ‘fore they can expose the law-abiding ones.  But they’re also afraid of us in general, ‘cause there’s too many hunters that would kill all of ‘em and not care if they’re innocent or not.”

“We’re going to try to keep in contact with some of the friends we made there.  We’re hoping that if we show that we can be trusted, they’ll eventually introduce us to more of this community,” I continued.  “Think about it—there’s _so_ much we can learn from each other, and so many different ways we could help each other too.”

“Well, hell!”  Bobby sat back in his chair.  “The idea is certainly gonna take some getting used to!  If this was coming from someone else, I’d be convinced you were drunk or trying to pull my leg.  But just the fact that this resort exists is some kind of proof.  And you were around these people for two weeks, and I doubt all of ‘em could be such good liars to fool both of you the whole time.  If you can convince these new friends though that we all ain’t a threat, then I want in too.  In fact, I’d be glad to meet ‘em sometime, if they’re willing.”

“We definitely will.  We figured on trying to introduce some of them to you, Jody, and Garth as soon as we can,” I said.

“Now for the more important stuff, dude.  We got you some souvenirs!” my husband announced.

He pulled the gifts we’d picked up for our adopted father from the bag.  There was a baseball cap from the resort gift shop, a pirate ship model from Key West, a bottle of aged Jamaican rum, and two bottles of barbeque sauce, one from Dallas and one from Kansas City.  The older man looked thrilled and immediately put the baseball cap.

“These are great, boys!” he said.  “I’ll hafta find a good spot in here for this ship.  And I’m gonna save the rum for a special occasion.  Maybe your first anniversary?”

“That would be nice,” I replied.  “We also got a couple of things for Jody.  We figure we should try to see her sometime before we leave.”

“Uh . . . well . . . she’s actually coming over tomorrow for dinner, so you can give ‘em to her then.  And don’t you two morons try to make a big deal outta nothing!” he growled with flushed cheeks in response to our wide grins and Dean’s waggled eyebrows.

Dean unsuccessfully tried to wipe the grin from his face.  “C’mon Bobby, it’s awesome that you two are getting on so well.  Would you like me to cook something for tomorrow night?  And me and Sam can clear out if you want some alone ti—”

“Don’t make me smack you, ya chucklehead!”

I snickered at Bobby’s discomfiture before calming down.  “Really though, we’re happy for you!  Anyways, we do have something important to tell you.  Dean and I talked before we left the resort, and we’ve decided that we want to buy a house of our own.”

Bobby looked even more pleased.  “That’s great to hear!  You know I’ve always wanted more for you two than just hunting.  You deserve a chance to settle down after everything you’ve done.  I take it that Dean told you about the money then?”

“Yes, he did.  And I want to thank you for helping him with that, on top of everything else you’ve done for us!” I said.  “We’re going to keep hunting, but we do plan to slow down some now that there’s no big doom and gloom hanging over us.  I filled Dean in on your and Garth’s ideas about trying to implement some order and structure in how hunts are handled.  If there’s anything we can do, let us know.”

“No need to thank me about the money, Sam.  I’m just glad your brother was convinced to spend it on the _both_ of you,” he responded.  “I assume this is why he had Frank do all that extra work on those false identities before the wedding.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  We can’t exactly apply for a mortgage and shit as ourselves, after all,” Dean said.  “We could actually use a hand with some of that.  Frank’s great for making records, but we’re also gonna need references to get real jobs to pay the bills.  It ain’t so hard for me, ‘cause I figure I can use you and the salvage yard.  We’re trying not to bend the truth more than we hafta, to make keeping our stories straight easier, and it ain’t much of a stretch to say I’ve worked here.”

“I’ve tried to tell him that he won’t _need_ any references to find work as a mechanic,” I interjected.  “He just has to show a prospective employer the Impala, and they’ll be offering him their firstborn kid as well as a job!”

My brother’s face turned pink.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Anyway, it’s trickier for Sam.  We’re thinking of saying he’s been doing research or teaching for a university, so he can find similar work or even go back to school himself.  But that’s gonna involve more than giving someone a fake card with your number on it like on a case.”

Bobby nodded.  “I see what you’re saying—everything would fall apart if your potential boss tries to contact the school you say I’m working at and finds out they never heard of me.  Hmm, I think I know of someone who could help.  Me and Ellie go way back.  She’s a professor of medieval studies at San Francisco University.  I’ll get in touch with her and see what we can do.”

“That’s fantastic, Bobby!” I said gratefully.  “If you don’t mind, we’d like to stay here for a little while.  We have to wait for Frank to finish the background info for out aliases, and in the meantime we need to get a better idea of what we’re looking for.”

“You know you both are welcome to stay as long as you want.  Even after you get your own place, you’ll always have a home here.”

***

We discussed our home search for a while and also filled him in on some of what we’d done since leaving the resort.  Eventually Bobby said he had to get back to work and chased us out of the study.  Dean pulled me outside and led me out back to the auto shop.

He stopped me just outside the garage doors.  “Wait right here, Sammy.  I got something I wanna show you.”

He disappeared inside and emerged moments later driving a classic muscle car.  With surprise, I recognized the GTO that he’d been working on for the past few months.  I hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to his progress, but the last time I saw the vehicle, he’d still been sanding the rust off.  Now though, it looked as if it had just rolled off the showroom floor.  The exterior was a glossy dark green with thin white striping running from the front quarter panel to the rear of the side window, and what I could see of the interior was upholstered in black leather.

My husband shut off the engine and got out.  “I’m sure you’re wondering why I dragged you out here, since you’re usually as interested in cars as I am in nature documentaries.  I figured if we’re going sorta legit and getting a house and jobs and crap, you’re gonna need your own ride to get around.  And since no brother _or_ husband of mine is gonna drive some cheap plastic piece of shit, here!”  He handed me the keys with a wide grin.

As I took them with a stupefied stare, he continued, “So this baby mighta started out as a beat-up sixty-nine GTO Judge, but she’s now what you’d call a restomod—I wanna make sure you’re in something safe, and I know you’d want better mileage and modern features.  So while the outside is as stock as I could manage, underneath she’s got a four-hundred horsepower LS2 engine, updated suspension, disc brakes, rack and pinion steering, four-speed automatic transmission, stiffened safety cage, upgraded tires, the works.  It’s like what I did when I had to rebuild Baby and put in the five-fifty HP big block engine and updated some of her systems.  For your girl, I also added a modern radio with a CD player and even a douchey iPod jack.”

I walked around the car and examined it, feeling stunned.  I’d never had my own car before—even at Palo Alto, I took public transportation or got rides from others.  While the GTO might not be what I’d choose for myself, there was no way to deny that it was stunning.  And to know that my brother had put so much time and effort and _artistry_ into something for me . . .

Dean continued as I stared at the car, “I know purists would complain ‘bout not using factory parts and shit.  But most modern cars are safer and handle better for a reason.  So I fixed up what original parts I could and sold ‘em to buy the new parts for her.  And Bobby helped a lot, of course.  I couldn’t have finished her by now without him.  So whaddya think?”

I threw my arms around him.  _Dee, I don’t know what to say.  This is gorgeous!  I—I can’t believe you did all_ this _for me.  I feel bad that I haven’t done anything like this for you._

He put his hand up on either side of my face.  _But you_ have, _sweetheart!  You_ saved _me!  Before we got together, I was in seriously shitty shape.  I was barely sleeping, I was drinking as bad as Dad, and I was ‘bout ready to give up.  I was tired of fighting and eaten up with guilt, and nothing in my life seemed worth putting up with all that crap.  I think I wasn’t far off from saying “Yes” to that damn archangel and not giving a fuck about what happened to me after._

 _You accepting me, supporting me, loving me—that gave me something to_ live _for again.  You made me see that I was worth something, that I was strong enough to stand up to whatever life threw at me.  I wouldn’t have survived all the shit that was on my shoulders, and I wouldn’t be here now, if it wasn’t for you.  And that’s worth more than a fucking car or house or some other_ thing.  He kissed me fiercely.

I leaned my forehead against his.  _You know you’ve done the same for me, right?  There’s no way I could’ve resisted Lucifer or—or learned to accept and forgive myself without you!  And you_ deserve _more.  You’ve given up everything for me and Dad and everyone else, and—and a nice house is a drop in the bucket compared to what we_ all _owe you._   I kissed him back just as passionately.

“Alright, that’s enough—we don’t wanna turn this into a giant chick-flick fest.”  He cleared his throat and straightened.  “How ‘bout we take this girl for a spin and try her out?”

I nodded, and he went around to the other side of the car.  We got in, and I turned the key in the ignition and listened to the engine rumble and purr.  I started to smile as we pulled out of the salvage yard.  The smile turned into a wide grin after we found some empty back roads and I opened her up.  She wasn’t quite as powerful as the Impala, but she was still no slouch and handled like a dream.  For the first time, I began to understand why Dean was so enthralled with his own car.

I glanced over at the passenger seat and watched the other man grin and whoop as we raced down the road.  I abruptly turned down a small gravel path and entered a wooded area frequently used by the local high schoolers as a make-out spot.  I parked in an empty clearing and turned off the engine, then leaned over the center console and pulled my husband into an ardent kiss.

“Backseat, _now_!” I told him once I let him up for air, before getting out and folding the front seat down.

“Wow, not wasting any time here, huh?”  He smirked and waggled his eyebrows as he scrambled into the back.

Dean removed his shirts, dropped them into the foot well, and toed his boots off, then lay back on the bench seat.  I first reached over to unfasten his jeans and pulled them and his boxer-briefs off, and then I climbed into the back above him.  I kissed him hungrily and scrabbled my hands up his chest to pinch and tug at his nipples.  He hissed slightly at the small pain and pushed my t-shirt up so that he could run his hands up my ribs and around my pecs and back. 

After a couple minutes, I dropped my mouth to his chest to suckle and nibble at the small nubs.  He arched his back and dug his fingers into my shoulder blades, then slid them down to fumble at the closure of my jeans.  He eventually got them open and drew my cock out of my boxers.  He threw one leg over the back of the rear seat and hitched the other up around my waist, then pushed himself down until he’d impaled himself on my length.

I groaned as my shaft suddenly was encased in his damp passage.  I began thrusting into him and grabbed his thigh with one hand, using the other to stroke his weeping member.  My lover whined and rocked his hips against me, his heated channel contracting around me.

He soon gasped, “Slow down, Sammy, or I’m gonna . . . gonna cum!”

My hand sped up.  “Go ahead, love.  Wanna see you cum all over my hand.”

He bucked his hips and shot his load onto my fingers, his inner walls clenching on my cock.  I lifted my hand to his mouth and watched his pink tongue come out to lap up his own seed.  I growled at that and started driving into him harder, stimulating his prostate with each stroke.  He braced himself against the side of the car as I gripped his legs tighter and bent over to claim his mouth.

“Come on, Dee . . . take it . . . take my cock,” I grunted between bruising kisses.

“ _Ahh_ , yeah, Sam . . . don’t stop . . . _ahh_ , gimme more!” he panted in response.

As I raised my head, I could see the car windows had fogged up from our steamy breath and could feel the vehicle swaying from our vigorous motion.  Dean keened and wrapped his legs tightly around me as I pounded repeatedly into his silky depths.  It wasn’t long before my climax rushed toward me, and I redoubled my pace, determined to bring him over with me.  He screamed and quaked beneath me, and I cried out as I ejaculated inside him.  He caught me as I collapsed atop him and turned us onto our sides.

 _Hate to tell you this, kiddo, but I don’t think you can return her now,_ my brother said with a laugh.

 _That’s okay.  I think I love her already,_ I responded.  _I_ definitely _love the guy who gave her to me!_

He beamed at me.  _We’ll make a gearhead outta you yet, Sammy!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this went up a little late. I'm sick AGAIN (flu and bronchitis, yay!) and felt like complete shit most of the day. I also didn't get much writing done this week as a result. :( I'm going to really have to put my nose to the grindstone once my brain is no longer mush!
> 
> Winchester Bay and Dean's Creek are actual places on the Oregon coast. I was REALLY tempted to have the boys settle down there, but realized they wouldn't want to risk someone noticing such an obvious link back to their real identities.
> 
> The next update will go up next Friday, and hopefully not so late. I also hopefully will have made more progress towards finishing this story by then, if I can shake this damn bug. In the meantime, constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get help in their house hunt from an unexpected source . . .

After getting redressed, we tooled around the back roads a little longer before returning to the salvage yard.  Bobby quirked a knowing eyebrow at our rumpled appearance but was pleased when I thanked him effusively for his help with the GTO.  Dean spent the rest of the afternoon demonstrating the car’s features, including the secret compartment in the trunk and the same protective symbols as on the Impala.

Jody joined us for dinner the following night.  Dean prepared Italian pepper steak and stuffed shells, and we both cleaned up the house beforehand.  We’d noted earlier that Bobby seemed to be keeping the house tidier than usual.  _And_ he was taking better care of his person as well—his hair and beard were trimmed, his clothes were neat, and even his hats were clean.  With great effort, we managed not to rib the older man, but we couldn’t keep the goofy grins off our faces while watching him interact with the sheriff.

Over dinner, we told her about our honeymoon (the G-rated version, of course) and our trip back.  She was thrilled with the gifts we got her, which included a fine robe from the resort shop and a delicate necklace of gilt-edged seashells.  She was equally excited at the news that we planned to get a house and offered her assistance with the search and any renovations.

Although we did spend some time helping Bobby out around the house and salvage yard or with research, most of the next few days was devoted to the house hunt.  Neither of us were interested in simply a starter home, so we had to ensure that whatever we chose would not only meet our current requirements but also could handle future needs.  Finding the right property was turning out to be a rather daunting task because there were so many variables to consider and also so many choices to sift through. 

One afternoon, we decided to blow off some steam by sparring out back while waiting to hear back from Frank regarding some final changes.  After working up a good sweat, we ended up flopped down in the shade of a nearby tree.  My husband eyed how my shirt was clinging to my chest and started to lean over.

“Hello, boys.”

We both shot up into sitting positions and saw Crowley standing a few feet away.

“Sonofabitch!” Dean swore.  “I swear I’m gonna put a fucking bell on you!”

The demon smirked for a moment.  “Nice to see you too, Squirrel.  I’m stopping by because I may have a solution to your housing dilemma.”

“How do you even know about that?  Did you bug our car again?” I demanded.

Crowley carefully dusted off a nearby stump with a handkerchief and sat before replying.  “Hardly.  I popped into your hotel room to chat while you were in Galveston, but you weren’t around.  Before I left, I _happened_ to notice you’d left your laptop on.  I then _happened_ to see your wish list for your new home and decided to keep an eye out.  I believe I’ve come across something quite promising.”

I sighed, knowing there was no point in protesting the invasion of privacy.  “Okay, so what have you found?”

“The property is in Veneta, Oregon, which is a small town just outside Eugene.  It has all the usual things—shops, restaurants, banks, blah blah— _and_ an auto shop which specializes in classic car restoration and maintenance,” Crowley explained.  “It’s also half an hour from the University of Oregon, which I believe is a respectable research institution, even if it’s not in Stanford’s league.  If Moose chooses to enroll as well as work there, they have a Graduate Employee program which covers tuition and pays a part-time salary.  There are other smaller universities in Eugene too, if that one doesn’t suit.

“The house itself seems to have everything on your list—Craftsman, three bedrooms and bathrooms, study, reasonable-sized kitchen, space in the basement for a workshop and vault or panic room, et cetera.  The house is rather charming, or will be once it’s fixed up, and still has most of the original features.  The lot is about a half-acre and includes a garage, pond, and gazebo.

“There is a catch, of course, but even _that_ works in your favor.  The property is currently bank-owned and has been on the market for nearly six years.  Before that, it went through five owners in eight years.  Multiple witnesses have reported strange noises, cold spots, electrical fluctuations, and objects flying about.  There’ve been a number of injuries, and the last owner, one of those ghastly real estate flippers, was nearly killed.  The asking price is significantly below value as a result of the house’s condition and reputation and probably can be negotiated even lower.”  The demon looked proud as he finished.

“So we’re thinking poltergeist, right?” I asked.  “Have you looked into the history of the place?”

“I have not yet, no.  I assumed you would prefer doing that yourself.  Though I’d be glad to assist if you need it,” Crowley said.

Dean frowned.  “How shitty is the condition of this place?  We don’t wanna be stuck with a giant fucking money pit.”

“From what _I_ could tell, most of the damage is superficial or merely neglect.  But you should insist on getting an expert’s appraisal.  And if you need to walk away, I won’t be upset,” Crowley assured him.

My brother and I exchanged a glance, and then I turned back to the demon.  “It certainly sounds really promising, man.  You—you didn’t have to do something like this for us.”

“Of course I didn’t _have_ to.  But it _is_ what friends do for each other,” Crowley responded.  “Besides, I rather owe you lumbering piles of flannel, and I always pay my debts.”

Dean looked puzzled.  “What the hell are you talking ‘bout?  We helped _each other_ out with taking down Lucifer.  You don’t owe us anything for that, Crowley.”

“Perhaps not directly for that, but I’ve been able to move up in the world significantly since then, thanks to you two,” he admitted.

We both looked even _more_ confused, and I had to say, “Okay, now we _really_ don’t know what you mean!”

“You locking Lucifer up again, presumably this time for good, left a rather _large_ vacancy at the top of Hell’s hierarchy.  Added to which, you’d previously killed his chief general, administrator, and torturer, as well as any number of other high-ranking demons.  I first went to Azazel’s fellow Princes of Hell to see if any of them would take up the mantle, but they’d retired eons ago and had no interest in returning. 

“So I decided to take over instead.  Now, you might think I’m an unlikely candidate for the King of Hell.  But you see, most demons are big on the chaos and destruction but not so much on the organization and planning.  _I_ , on the other hand, have the backing of all the crossroads demons and the majority of the hellhounds.  The fact that I’m friends with you both carries no small weight either.  So here we are.”  Crowley spread his hands.

“The _fuck_?  You—you’re _what_?” Dean spluttered in shock.  I felt equally flabbergasted.

Crowley said calmly, “Now hear me out before either of you overreact!  If you stop and think about it, this is a _good_ thing for everyone involved.  _Somebody_ has to take over Hell, and as I said, most other demons are only interested in causing the maximum amount of mayhem possible.  Whereas I’m what you might call more ‘lawful evil.’  Like any crossroads demon, I’m all about setting rules and following them.  Under me, there’ll be _no_ more demons running amok, doing whatever they bloody please.  I have no problems throwing _any_ demons who disobey to you hunters for summary justice.

“The important thing to understand is that I have absolutely _no_ interest in destroying or taking over the world.  I rather like it exactly as it is, full of you crazy, flawed, creative, wonderful mortals.  Nor do I have any desire to cause unnecessary conflict with you or any of your violent compatriots, since that rarely turns out well for _us_ in the end.  I’m perfectly happy to manage my fiefdom and keep the status quo.

“So there’ll be significant changes going forward.  No demons will be allowed topside anymore—other than yours truly, of course—unless they’ve been summoned, are on a _specific_ mission from me, or have received a temporary pass as a reward.  Those who do come here will have _very_ firm restrictions on their behavior, including on killing mortals.  And in honor of what your family’s suffered, I plan to relax the penalties for those who make deals for altruistic reasons.  Plus I don’t want to risk the possibility of some other wanker breaking the first Seal again and starting this sodding mess all over!”

“And we’re supposed to buy what you’re trying to sell us right now?” Dean asked skeptically.

“As I told you months ago, my word is my bond—it’s bad business if people can’t trust us when they make their deals.  Also, while we demons may not have consciences as you know it, we still have feelings.  The fact that you and I are friends _does_ mean quite a lot to me,” the demon replied seriously.

I gazed contemplatively at him for a moment before I said, “You do understand that this is a _lot_ for us to take in, right?  But you’ve always tried to be upfront with us, and you _are_ our friend, so we’ll try.”

 _You sure ‘bout this, Sam?_ Dean asked in concern.  _I like Crowley and all, but we ain’t exactly had good experiences with any of the previous douchebags in charge downstairs._

 _I think I would’ve gotten a bad vibe if Crowley had ill intent behind what he’s saying, but I didn’t.  I think he actually does mean well, or at least as much as he’s capable.  Whether things will turn out the way he plans is an entirely different question,_ I replied.

_I suppose we gotta give him the benefit of the doubt for now.  I just hope this don’t come back to bite us in the ass later._

_If it’s any consolation, I did get a good feeling about the house he was describing,_ I offered.

Dean sighed.  “I guess congratulations or something are in order then, man.  You can come to us for help though if anything goes south and you’re in trouble, okay?  And, uh, we do wanna check out this house.”

“After we’ve had a chance to research the place first.  We need to know what we’re dealing with regarding this poltergeist before we step foot inside,” I added.

“In the meantime, follow us back to the house here.  We got something for you,” my brother said.

Once we got to the back door of Bobby’s house, Dean dashed inside and came back with another bottle of aged Jamaican rum.  He handed it to the demon, saying, “We dunno how this compares to that Scotch you like, but here.”

“You got a gift for _me_?”  Crowley looked surprised and touched.

“It’s what friends do, right?  We tried to get something for all our friends and family,” Dean told him.

“I’m honored.  Perhaps we’ll open this at your housewarming party?  I’ll leave you to your research for now.  Here are the particulars on the property.  Call me when you’re ready to go visit it.”  He handed me a piece of paper and then disappeared.

***

After talking to Frank on the phone, Dean and I hit the research.  I focused on the history of the house and the identity of the poltergeist, while Dean checked out the neighborhood, town, and potential employers to see how they suited our needs.  We looked up as much as we could online and made calls as well, some as legitimate potential homebuyers and some posing as reporters and the like.

We met up with Bobby in his study the following afternoon to pool our findings and get his input.  We’d already informed him of what Crowley had passed on to us.  He was still skeptical, as he’d never warmed up to the demon as much as we did.

“So get this,” I said, opening the relevant files on my laptop.  “The house was built in nineteen twenty-seven by a local lawyer named Jonah Warner.  It was supposed to be for him and his new bride, but she died after a couple years from TB.  He was heartbroken and threw all his energy into his career and his house.  He never remarried and eventually became a judge, and the place, which everyone calls the Warner House, became a local landmark.  He lived there for over sixty years, initially alone and then with a live-in caretaker, Tony Marcos, for the last dozen years of his life.  He was killed there in ninety-one in what was initially thought to be a home invasion gone bad.  Turned out some punks he’d sentenced showed up on Marcos’ night off for some payback and didn’t expect their victim to fight back.

“Since Warner had no living family by then, he left his house to the caretaker.  Marcos kept the house in the same pristine condition as the judge had, and everything seemed fine.  Visitors did report cold spots and things moving about, but nothing violent—the spirit seemed to be _helping_ more than anything.  Marcos died in a car accident about six years later, and a young couple bought the property after it cleared probate.  The trouble seemed to start after they decided to update the house.  The spirit chased away every contractor they hired, and they sold the place after two years.  They were the first owners the poltergeist drove off, followed by four more, as well as multiple contractors, vandals, thieves, and thrill-seekers.

“The poltergeist has definitely been escalating over the years.  Initially it only reacted when someone actually started to change or damage the house, but recent reports claim it’ll attack if you merely _talk_ about it.  And the violence has ramped up as well—it started out with just scaring people off, then injuring them, and that last owner Crowley mentioned was nearly killed when he was thrown down the stairs.”

“Definitely sounds like Warner’s our man,” Bobby said.  “Is there any angle to the assholes who offed him, or is it all about the house?”

I shook my head.  “His killers weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed and were caught red-handed after neighbors heard the ruckus and called the police.  There’ve been no attempts to go after them or their families or anyone similar to them.  He seems to be entirely focused on protecting the house.  And the place _was_ gorgeous at one time—I found a couple articles the local newspaper did on the Warner House before the judge’s death, complete with pictures.  There aren’t any recent pictures of the interior—not even the realtor will go inside—so I’m not sure how bad it is now.”

“The rest of Crowley’s intel seems to check out too,” Dean said, pulling out some papers.  “Veneta’s a small town, maybe forty-five hundred people, though they’ve been throwing up a lotta new developments and shit in the past decade.  But there’s still a smattering of older homes like this one about.  Old man Warner’s family used to own the whole cul-de-sac, though the rest of the properties have been sold over the years.  The street is supposed to be pretty quiet, mostly young families, and the Warner House is the only one on the end, so it’s got a bit of distance and privacy from the others.  The town itself seems to have all the basics, and it’s less than ten miles from the outskirts of Eugene for whatever else we want.

“The potential employers he mentioned are also legit,” he continued.  “The auto shop’s been in business for over fifteen years and has a solid reputation.  Place is called Halliwell’s Classic Restoration, which means I should get along great with this guy—I _love_ that movie!”

I rolled my eyes.  Of course he did—it was car porn _and_ had Angelina Jolie.  “Maybe it’s just his name, dude.”

My husband smirked at me.  “Nope, owner’s name is Colin Atkinson.  Anyways, this place’s definitely my first choice, but there are several other garages in the area if he ain’t hiring.  And the U of Oregon is a solid choice for you, Sam.  It’s considered a ‘very high research activity’ university, so there’s gotta be a lotta opportunities there.  And if you decide to attend, the GE program will cover your tuition up to sixteen credits as long as you take at least nine a semester and let you work part-time too.  They got a law school if you still wanna go that route, or they’ve got lots of master’s and doctoral programs.  I really think you should consider this, kiddo.”

‘That _is_ very tempting.  And the house looks promising on paper.  But first we have to check it out in person to determine its current condition and see if we truly like it,” I pointed out.  “And regardless of whether we decide to get it, we have to deal with the poltergeist.  We can’t risk it hurting more people.”

Bobby said.  “You’ll hafta see if salting and burning the old man’s bones will do the trick, or if you hafta plant hex bags in the house.”

“About that . . . I’m wondering if there’s another option besides banishing it.  Maybe convince it that we’re there to restore the place, not gut it?  I mean, we met all those different supernatural creatures at Chavah Island, so it just seems like—”

“Those were sentient people who could be reasoned with!  This thing’s gone _well_ beyond vengeful, man, which means it’s running on nothing but fucking rage!  It ain’t gonna turn into a nice roommate like Phantom Dennis,” Dean interrupted irritably.  “And even if your crazy-ass idea did work, I don’t wanna worry ‘bout it flipping out later if it doesn’t like a change we’re trying to make.”

“Listen, it can’t hurt to _try_.  After all, we can protect ourselves against anything it can do.  If this doesn’t work, we can still fall back on the salt-‘n-burn option,” I argued.

“Personally, I ain’t comfortable with the fact that you’re trusting information from _Crowley_.  He’s a snake-oil salesman _and_ a demon, and now he’s the frigging King of Hell!  Tell me again how he _ain’t_ bad news?” Bobby groused.

“Bobby, we’re well aware of what he is.  But he’s never intentionally led us astray, and he’s been a better ally than any of the angels except Cas.  Plus there’s really no ulterior motive for him here.  We didn’t ask him for help—he came to us on his own,” I explained.

“And as far as the King of Hell gig, better the devil you know and all that shit,” Dean added.  “We’re gonna keep an eye on him if we can, but we gotta give him a chance first.”

Bobby sighed.  “Balls!  Well, I hope you idjits know what you’re getting yourself into.  Just holler for me when things go pear-shaped, and I’ll ride to the rescue.”

“We’ll be fine, at least in this case.  I told you I got a good feeling about this house, and so far this precognition vibe thing hasn’t been wrong,” I said.

“If you say so, kid.  You want me to come along?”

“Until we get a better handle on how to deal with our undead friend, the less people I have to shield the better,” I replied.  “Once the poltergeist is neutralized, I’m sure we’ll want your input on the condition of the house and stuff.”

“Poltergeists are tricky to deal with, even with your woo-woo powers, boy, so you’re gonna need my help,” the older hunter scolded.  “And I ain’t exactly quaking in my boots over a damn spook after facing down Lucifer, ya know.  Besides, I _ain’t_ letting Crowley poof me over there afterwards.  Bastard’s liable to leave me stuck halfway in a tree!”

“We ain’t traveling that way either, man.  Unless it’s an emergency, I’d rather take a fucking plane than do _that_ again!”  Dean shuddered.  “Besides, we’re gonna wanna check out more than just the house while we’re there, and I ain’t gettin sulfur all over my Baby.  Let him come, Sam.  He can always stay outside if we really decide it’s too risky to all go in.”

“Alright, alright.  If we leave in a couple hours and drive in shifts, I think we can get there by tomorrow afternoon.  Then we crash in a motel and visit the house the next morning.  I’ll call Crowley and have him meet us there,” I said.

“Sounds like a plan!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is obviously a somewhat nicer version of Crowley than in canon. He's always been one of my favorite characters, even more than Castiel--smart, snarky, witty. He's never been as evil as most of the BBGs the boys have faced--his plans have been about protecting what he's got, not trying to take over the world or destroy humanity. And it seems on more than one occasion that he would've been happy to be the Winchesters' friend if they'd only let him in. So I thought, how different would things be if they actually had been willing to overlook what he was and accept him for who he was?
> 
> I'm finally starting to feel better and was able to get some writing done this week, so hopefully I'll be able to pull ahead of my posting schedule soon. The next update should go up next Friday as usual. In the meantime, I'm as always open to constructive criticism and eager to read your comments. Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys see the house for the first time and deal with the poltergeist . . .

Crowley was waiting for us outside the property when we pulled up to the end of the cul-de-sac and got out of the Impala.  From the sidewalk, all we could see was a rusty, dilapidated wrought iron fence, waist-high grass and weeds, and the beginning of an overgrown stone driveway.  We walked up the drive and found an equally overrun path leading to the front door.

We stopped in front of the porch steps to take a good look at the exterior of the house.  It was a story and a half tall, with the foundation and half the first story faced in grey stone, the rest in pale green stucco, and a line of bricks separating the two.  The low-pitched gable roof featured overhanging eaves, elaborate wooden braces, and exposed rafter ends.  A wide porch extended across most of the front, its roof supported by tapering wooden columns standing on tall brick and stone bases.  Signs of neglect were noticeable—dirty stone, crumbling mortar, peeling paint, cracked stucco, weathered wood, and broken panes in the six-over-one double-hung windows.

I glanced at Dean and Bobby, who were studying the damage, and asked, “How bad do you think it is?”

“From what I can tell right now, it actually ain’t as bad as it looks,” Dean replied.  “There’s a lotta work, but most of it seems superficial.  The majority of this shit can be repaired, with only a few spots that hafta be replaced.  ‘Course, we still hafta inspect the other sides too.”

“You’re fortunate that Warner used the best materials he could to build this place and took excellent care of it for a long time.  Take this, for example.”  Bobby pointed up at the greenish roof tiles.  “That’s a slate roof.  If the tiles ain’t broke, that’ll last you another century easily.  With quality workmanship like this, this place can recover from a few years of mistreatment—just needs some love and elbow grease.”

“Shall we go inside?  I took the liberty of contacting the realtor to get the key.  Bloody woman nearly had an apoplexy when she figured out which house I meant.”  Crowley rolled his eyes as he unlocked the door.

My husband gave the cheap security door the stink eye as he went through.  “That piece of shit has _gotta_ go!  If the original ain’t here somewhere, we’ll hafta check architectural salvage places in Eugene or Portland or online stores that do reproduction work.”

Inside, a small foyer opened up to the dining room and family room on one side and study on the other.  The study was lined in bookshelves and had space in the center for a large desk.  A hallway behind the study led to a small full bathroom and simple guest bedroom.  The dining room had a coffered ceiling, built-in hutches in the corners, a Mission-style chandelier, and low walls with built-in shelves and square columns on the ends bracketing the wide entrances to the foyer and family room.  The family room was spacious, with a stone fireplace flanked by shelves on one side and an open kitchen on the other.  At the far end of the wall with the fireplace was a doorway leading to the hallway for the guest room and stairs heading up.  On the back wall was a set of French doors leading to the rear porch.  The kitchen featured a long island and ample cabinet and counter space.  Opening off it was a butler’s pantry and utility room, which in turn led to a side porch connected to the driveway.

On the other side of the kitchen was the entrance to the master bedroom, which appeared to be a somewhat later addition to the house and had a vaulted ceiling and window seat.  Off the bedroom was a decent-sized bathroom and large walk-in closet.  Upstairs was an open bonus room and the third bedroom and bathroom, as well as several unfinished storage spaces under the eaves.  Behind a door in the foyer were stairs down to the basement, which had a large central area sealed with waterproof paint and a couple sections framed out as potential separate rooms.  Hardwood floors were run throughout the finished portions of the house, and tall ceilings gave an added sense of space.

Disrepair was as evident inside as outside the house, however.  The floors and much of the woodwork needed refinishing, the walls were riddled with cracks, holes, and even graffiti in a couple places, and many of the original fixtures were damaged or missing.  Some of the previous owners’ attempts at changing the house were evident in partially removed wallpaper, cheap cabinets and fixtures in the kitchen and bathrooms, and rolls of carpeting and padding piled haphazardly in the bonus room upstairs.  And the backyard was even more overgrown than the front, with the patio coming off the covered rear porch, pond, and gazebo barely visible beneath the heavy undergrowth and unkempt trees.

Despite all this, neither Dean nor Bobby seemed very concerned.  After we’d made a thorough circuit of the house and grounds, Bobby said, “Didn’t see any significant issues with the major systems.  Plumbing looks good, and the wiring musta been updated sometime before the old man died.  Radiators are solid, and the boiler probably has a few years left.  No sign of water damage, termites, or asbestos as far I can tell.”

My brother nodded in agreement.  “This place has awesome bones, man.  Most of the damage in here ain’t too bad, except for the modern fixtures that got added later.  But that stuff’s crap anyways, so it ain’t a big deal to scrap ‘em.  The original shit Warner put in can mostly be fixed, and we can hunt down matching substitutes for the rest.  We’re still gonna need a home inspector to come in and make sure me and Bobby didn’t miss anything.  From what we can see right now though, fixing this place up is totally doable, and it’ll be fucking _gorgeous_ when we’re done.  Whaddya think, Sam?”

“I _really_ like it.  The rooms are all a good size, and there’s plenty of storage space with all these built-ins, plus the attic and the basement.  We should be able to put in everything we want in this place.”  I glanced over at Crowley.  “You picked a good one, man.  Thanks!”

The demon smiled.  “You’re quite welcome.  Any signs of Casper the unfriendly ghost?”

“I’ve been getting EMF readings all through the house,” I said.  “There doesn’t appear to be any one spot where they’re localized.  I didn’t notice any cold spots or other signs of undead activity, but we apparently haven’t said or done anything yet to draw its attention.  Given how little significant damage the house has suffered, I wonder if the poltergeist has somehow been protecting the building from most of the normal effects of abandonment.”

“So, are we going to deal with your unwanted resident now then?” Crowley asked.

“We might as well, since we’re already here.  Most of the neighbors should be at work or school by now, so hopefully no one will notice if things get loud.”  I looked at the others.  “Crowley, can you deal with any objects the poltergeist throws at us?  Dean, do you remember the sigils we need to draw?”

“Yeah, I got ‘em.  Bobby’s gonna be on salt duty, right?”

“Yes, and I’ll concentrate on drawing away its power.  Once it’s been weakened and trapped by the symbols, we can try to talk to it,” I said.  “If this doesn’t work, we’ll try the more traditional methods of banishment.”

Dean and Bobby went out to the car and returned with supplies.  The older hunter began loading shotguns with salt shells, while Dean studied some notes and looked around the family room to determine the best placement for the symbols.  Crowley sat down on the stairs to wait, while I erected shields around everyone else from the center of the room.

Dean walked over to one of the walls with a piece of chalk, but before he started to draw, he called out, “Hello?  Ghost dude?  I dunno if you’re listening right now, but . . . we really like your home, and we wanna fix it up.  So we’d appreciate it if you don’t try to gank us, okay?”

Despite his conciliatory words, the temperature plummeted as soon as he began to inscribe the runes.  All around the room, windows and doors on the various cabinets and built-ins rattled, and debris and discarded belongings whirled around violently.  Most of the projectiles burst into flame and burnt to ash before they approached anyone, and the rest were disrupted by blasts of rock salt.  Dean moved around the room and continued to draw.

While all this was going on, I reached for my “other” vision and studied the energy being thrown about for a moment.  I started gathering in the various threads of power the poltergeist was manifesting, and the violence around us slowly lessened.  Rather than dissipating or absorbing the energy, I anchored it into the house itself, figuring it would come in handy later.

Once Dean finished the last symbol, the transparent figure of an old man snapped into view in front of the fireplace.  His face was contorted in rage, but he lacked the strength to do more than shake impotently.

“Jonah Warner, it’s time to go to your rest.  You don’t need to protect your home any longer.  My brother and I plan to buy and restore it, so it will be _our_ job to take care of this house,” I said.  “We’d prefer if you move on of your own free will, but we can’t allow you to hurt anyone else.”

The spirit shouted, “Liars!  You interlopers all come in here looking to destroy what I’ve built!  Nothing but Philistines and grave-robbers!  I’ll not let you bastards damage my home!”  The energy around him flared, but I shunted it aside and sunk it into the house before it could do any harm.

“ _You’re_ the one damaging this place, old man!  Look around you!  Thanks to your damn haunting, this house has been neglected for years, _and_ there’s the fallout from your fucking tantrums.  If you don’t stop, eventually _no one_ ’s gonna be able to fix this,” Dean retorted. 

Then his expression softened.  “Listen, I understand how much you love this home.  My Baby is a sixty-seven Chevy Impala, and I’ve been looking after her since I was a teenager.  I know how _I’d_ feel if some asshole tried to rip out her parts and replace ‘em with junk.  But what you’re doing now is hurting _your_ baby!  It’s time to let go, dude.”

The ghost stopped in confusion at that.  He gazed around the room, and his expression became dismayed.  He then looked back at us, his eyes clear of madness.  I’d continued to draw away the poltergeist’s power as my husband spoke, and presumably this in turn drained off the force of his anger as well.

“I . . . God, what have I done here?  Lily loved this house so much, and I wanted to protect it in her memory.  I never wanted . . .”  Warner looked around again sadly.  “But how can I leave?  I can’t trust . . . Ever since Tony died, none of them have loved this place.  They just want to change everything . . .”

I cautiously touched the spirit’s thoughts.  _You can trust us, Jonah.  We’re looking for a beautiful house like this because we want a home with character, with heart.  We know that newer doesn’t always mean better.  You should_ see _what my brother has done restoring older cars, and then you’d know he’ll do something equally wonderful with your property.  We’ll treat it with the respect and love it deserves._   As I spoke, I showed him snippets of the thoughts and emotions we’d put into searching for the perfect home.

 _If you give this over to Sam and me, we ain’t gonna leave here anytime soon.  ‘Cause we ain’t just looking for a house—we want a_ home _, man,_ Dean added.  _You can tell we ain’t human, so we’re gonna be here to take care of this place for a_ long _time.  And if we ever hafta go, we’ll make sure to leave this place in the right hands before we do._

Warner studied us both for a long moment, and then his form dissolved into a bright glowing whirl.  Most of the light abruptly flowed down the lines I’d established into the house, leaving behind a luminous mist.  This in turn swirled straight up and disappeared.

Bobby blew out a held breath.  “Damn!  Well, _that_ certainly was different!  Is he gone for good?”

I pulled out my EMF meter again and got only low-level readings.  I also extended my senses throughout the house.  “Most of the poltergeist’s power is still here, woven into the fabric of the house itself now, but there’s no consciousness left.  Warner’s gone, and the energy left behind can be used to protect this home later.”

Crowley stood and fastidiously brushed off his suit.  “So what’s next?”

“I wanna check out the auto shop, and maybe see if they got any openings.  And we wanna drive around the town to get a feel for it and see what’s around.  Then we’re going to head into Eugene so Sam can scope out the university and talk to people there.  Assuming that all works out, I guess the last stop ‘fore we go back to South Dakota will be the realtor.  Right, Sam?”  My brother looked at me for confirmation.

“Yeah.  Unless we find something really fucked up out there, I think we might be ready to put in an offer,” I said in agreement.

“Right then, it sounds like I’m done for the time being.  Before you sign anything, however, call me to review the papers first.  No one knows more about contracts, after all.”  The demon disappeared.

***

As I’d predicted, the owner of Halliwell’s Classic Restoration barely looked at the resume Dean handed him.  Instead, moments after we’d come to a stop in front of the garage, Atkinson and a couple of his employees had the Impala’s hood up and were happily car-geeking away with Dean and Bobby.  I sighed, found a chair near the office, and opened my laptop to wait out the gearhead love fest.  By the time we left over an hour later, my husband was beaming and had a firm offer of a job if we decided to move to Veneta.

The town itself was quiet and well-maintained.  It had all the staples—a hardware store, liquor store, discount retailer, and small library, a couple of banks, gas stations, grocery stores, and other auto shops, several coffee shops, grills, and restaurants, and various other businesses, mostly centered around the two main highways cutting through the town.  There were a couple of apartment complexes and trailer parks and several relatively new housing developments scattered throughout the residential areas.  Veneta had a community pool, sports complex, and skate park, and Fern Ridge Reservoir and the parks surrounding it could be seen from the northern end of town.

We then drove into downtown Eugene to visit the University of Oregon.  We walked around the campus, and I met with an admissions officer and with advisors from the folklore master’s program.  While I was occupied with meetings, Dean and Bobby explored the city, particularly the area around the university and towards Veneta.  I left the school with all the information and documentation I’d need to apply for classes and a teaching or research position.

Dinner was at the single steakhouse in Veneta, which had a casual, bar-like atmosphere.  Our waitress and the other local patrons were quite friendly when they learned we were planning to buy a house there (though we didn’t mention which one) and willing to answer questions and share stories about living in the area.  Dean and I showed off at the pool table but didn’t try to hustle anyone—we’d learned from past experience to never fleece people anyplace that we intended to return to frequently.  Afterwards, we went back to the rooms we’d booked at the town’s only motel.

“Working at that garage is gonna be _awesome_ , man!”  Dean exclaimed as we entered our room.  “I barely had to explain anything ‘bout sometimes needing to leave suddenly—just dropped the words ‘deployed’ and ‘classified’ in the conversation, and Collin got the gist.”

I sighed.  “Did _he_ start humming the theme song?”

“Nah, but he did ask if I’d be disavowed if I talked too much ‘bout it,” he replied with a grin.

“If it turns out his favorite foods are bacon cheeseburgers and pie, we _have_ to investigate if you two were separated at birth,” I told him, shaking my head ruefully.  “I hate to admit it, but this dumbass idea of yours is coming in handier than I thought.  I was able to convince the university to make an exception and fast-track my application to be able to attend the spring semester, since all the deadlines have long passed.  I have to submit everything right away though.”

My brother’s idea had been to imply when necessary that we were involved in some kind of covert military work.  He argued that this would not only explain absences with short to no notice and unknown duration but also any injuries we couldn’t heal right away or any weapons that might be discovered.  He also pointed out that it could be used to cover the gap between Stanford and now.  As preposterous as the notion was, I really couldn’t think of a better plan.  So Frank set us up with military IDs and enough background information to suggest that we _could_ be spooks.  And Dean spent the entire day humming the _Mission: Impossible_ theme after I agreed.

“My idea kicks ass, and you know it, dude!” he declared as he undressed.  “You should be able to finish the application when we get back to Bobby’s house.  Frank’s sent us all the shit for our new fake identities, and Bobby got Dr. Visyak to agree to provide references that you did research and translation work for her.  You’ll be a shoe-in, baby boy.  The name on the transcripts might be different, but you earned those grades and test scores.”  He gave me a quick kiss before going into the bathroom.

While he showered, I unpacked what we’d need for the night and the next morning and stripped myself.  I was tempted to join my husband but realized the shower was far too tiny when I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.  Instead I settled down on the bed and found something mindless on the television as I waited.

After Dean emerged from the bathroom and lay down beside me, I asked, _Are we_ really _ready to make an offer?  Should we look around more first?_

 _No, we don’t need to keep searching.  This is the one, and we both know it, kiddo,_ he said firmly.  _The house has the space for everything we want, and it’s gonna look fucking_ epic _when we’re done with it.  The jobs at the auto shop and university are practically tailor-made for us.  The town is nice, and we got Eugene next door.  Your intuition thing’s been sending you good vibes about all this shit too.  ‘Bout the only thing that kinda sucks is how far we’re gonna be from Bobby, but we knew that when we picked this area._

 _I know you’re right.  I guess I still find all this hard to believe sometimes.  Most of our lives have been so hard, between Lucifer and Azazel and their goons trying to yank us one way, and Michael and Zachariah and their flunkies dragging us the other.  But everything’s been going so well lately that it feels too good to be true at times,_ I explained.

 _I get what you’re saying, Sammy.  Past few months do feel like something outta a djinn wish-dream or crossroad deal.  But the bastards who’ve been fucking with our lives are all dead or locked up or back to minding their own goddamn business, so we’re finally free to do things_ our _way.  And none of the shit they pulled could get in the way of how we feel ‘bout each other, which is what_ really _brought us here.  It’s gonna take time, but one day we’ll both figure out that we_ deserve _a taste of the apple-pie life just as much as anyone.  Now enough talking!_   He leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips.

I returned his kiss and ran a hand down his side, while his hand roamed over my chest.  We kissed and caressed each other for several minutes, and then my lover slid his hand down and began stroking my cock.  I groaned in appreciation at the feel of his callused fingers moving on the soft skin of my member, and I wrapped my fingers around his shaft to reciprocate.  He gasped and pressed closer to me as I slipped my other hand between his thighs and pushed two fingers into his slick, tight channel. 

We continued to jerk each other off rapidly, and he moaned as I rubbed my fingertips over his prostate.  As our pleasure tangled together, my brother’s love and hope and assurance enveloped me and helped to dampen my concerns.  He soon stiffened and came all over my abdomen, his passage tightening around my fingers.  He kept jacking my cock through his orgasm, and it wasn’t long before I too climaxed, my seed joining his on my belly.  We lay there panting for a while, our hands still curled around the other’s shafts.

Dean eventually got up and staggered into the bathroom, returning with a damp towel.  After cleaning me off and tossing the towel back into the bathroom, he flopped back onto the bed.  I maneuvered myself around so I could rest my head over his heart.

 _Feeling better now, baby?_ he asked, combing his fingers through my hair.

 _Thanks, Dee.  I guess I’m simply having the Winchester version of first-time home-buying jitters.  But deep down I know this is the right thing for us,_ I replied.  _We’ve overcome everything that Hell and Heaven’s thrown at us, so how bad can owning a house be?_

_That’s right, Sammy!  There ain’t anything we can’t handle together!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is so late in the day--the new expansion for Guild Wars 2 launched today, and I didn't realize how late it was!
> 
> The house the boys are planning to buy mostly looks like this: https://www.houseplans.com/plan/1421-square-feet-3-bedrooms-2-bathroom-cottage-house-plans-0-garage-36110. The floor plan is a bit different--I imagine it being more rectangular with the master suite as an added wing off the kitchen (the asymmetrical layout and angled walls is a more modern design aesthetic), and the room sizes may not be the same. Plus I threw in a bathroom on the second floor behind the smaller bonus room, which is now a bedroom, and the basement is currently unfinished. I looked up Craftsman-style house plans for inspiration and fell in love when I saw this one. I have a weakness for old houses and all their details--my own house is a Victorian built in 1860 that we've been slowly restoring.
> 
> Veneta is a real town, and most of what I described there does exist (the auto restoration shop is made-up). I picked it because I was looking for a smallish town near the Oregon coast that was also close to a major city with a decent university. It was only after I'd already settled on Veneta--and Eugene by extension--and was checking out the University of Oregon to decide what Sam would want to study in graduate school that I discovered it had a masters of folklore program: https://folklore.uoregon.edu/graduate-studies-in-folklore/. So yay for serendipity! :)
> 
> So I finally seem to be back on a roll with my writing, and I'll be adjusting the final chapter count sometime soon because it's going to be longer than I initially estimated (not exactly sure yet by how much). Updates will continue to go up on Fridays unless otherwise mentioned. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me very happy!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys put in an offer on the house and go through settlement, the start of the renovations, and more . . .

Our appointment with the realtor representing the property was the following morning.  Her office was in Eugene, so we drove into the city.  Crowley, who insisted on acting as our real-estate lawyer, met us there.  Bobby elected to hang out in a nearby bookstore, not wanting to be a fifth wheel.

Once we were seated and the usual pleasantries taken care of, Ms. Strazynski said, “The property you gentlemen are considering is the Warner House in Veneta, correct?  Are you aware of its . . . _unusual_ history?  As I tried to explain to Mr. Crowley when he initially contacted my office, we’ve had a number of people express varying levels of interest in the property over the years, and they’ve all backed out in a hurry after experiencing some kind of . . . _incident_ at the house.  I know my goal is supposed to be to make the sale, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t make sure you were approaching this with eyes wide open.”

Dean smiled.  “Don’t worry, ma’am—we ain’t afraid of no ghost!”

“What my husband is trying to say is that we have researched the background of this house thoroughly, and we’re prepared to deal with any circumstances that may result,” I added.  “We fully understand what will be involved in purchasing the Warner House, and we still want to make an offer today.”

“If I may take over from here?” Crowley interjected.  “My clients wish to put in a full-price offer, with the consideration of an expedited turn-around time from the bank as a result.  They’d like to close on the property soon to make needed repairs before the weather turns cold.  It’s currently the end of October, so reaching settlement by mid- to late November would be ideal.  This offer is also contingent on a full home inspection, of course.”

The demon’s face was slightly disgruntled as he spoke.  When we spoke to him yesterday evening, he’d argued in favor of trying to negotiate the asking price down.  Dean and I had discussed the issue on our own, however, and agreed that closing on the house sooner so we could get the house in livable condition before the onset of winter was a priority.  Banks were notorious for their slow responses and reluctance to bargain, so we knew we’d have to sweeten the pot to speed the process up.  And the property was already well below fair market value due to its condition and history.

The realtor looked us over and nodded.  “Normally, such a short time frame could be an issue—sales on bank-owned properties tend to take longer than private sales.  Fortunately, the bank in question is local, and they’re _quite_ eager to get this particular property off their books.  So I think they’ll be willing to work with you on this.  I assume your clients’ financials in order?”

“Of course.  They’ve been pre-approved for a mortgage, and they have the funds for a twenty-percent down payment and closing costs, as well as for the initial work on the house.  May I see the contract?”  Crowley held out a hand.

He reviewed the document and dickered back and forth with the realtor over several of the clauses.  I tried to follow along with the discussion, while Dean attempted to not look bored.  Once the contract had been amended to Crowley’s satisfaction, I carefully read it over—though he was our friend, he _was_ still a crossroads demon—and signed.  Dean gave the document a cursory once-over before adding his signature and producing the check for the earnest money.  Ms. Strazynski then shook our hands and promised to contact us as soon as she got word from the bank.

We retrieved Bobby from the bookstore and drove back to Sioux Falls to wait.  Fortunately for our nerves, the realtor called us back after only three days to inform us that the bank had accepted our offer, and the closing was set for the Friday before Thanksgiving.  We immediately scheduled a home inspection and contacted the mortgage company—which had been recommended to us by the financial advisor who’d been managing Dean’s savings—about processing our loan.  I also completed the graduate school application and sent it in right away.

The inspection report came back with only minor issues, most of which we were already aware of.  Finalizing the mortgage went smoothly as well.  We’d researched the process extensively and done our due diligence, and the financial history Frank set up for our new identities passed muster without question.  The contingencies taken care of, all that was left was to await the day of the closing.

We used the time to prepare for the move and renovations.  We cataloged the projects that had to be done around the property, with anything needed to make it weatherproof and livable at the top of the list.  We visited architectural salvage yards in the area to purchase some materials and ordered others from online stores specializing in period-appropriate reproductions.  Bobby went through his collection of hand and power tools and assembled what he and Dean thought we might need and could readily transport.  He planned to accompany us to help out for at least a couple of weeks, while Garth agreed to mind the salvage business and phone lines in the older hunter’s absence.

We also did what we could to assist Bobby and Garth in their ambitious plans to organize the North American hunters.  The initial step was contacting the hunters we knew to gather details on their addresses, contact information, areas of expertise, limitations, and more, as well as the names and numbers they had for any additional hunters.  This was sometimes slow going, as hunters weren’t exactly known for being open and forthcoming.  I entered the statistics we acquired into a searchable database, and Dean drafted a map with locations and tentative hunting ranges.

Once all the data was eventually assembled, Bobby and Garth planned to follow up with everyone to get their buy-in to the concept.  A later project would be creating a network of hunter-friendly civilians who could feed cases to the dispatchers and provide resources to hunters in their area.  This part was Jody’s idea.  She pointed out that our cases created a pool of people who knew about the supernatural to some degree—people we were able to save, families of victims we couldn’t, police officers, reporters, medical personnel, academic experts, and psychics—and could be of valuable assistance to our work.

Two days before the closing, we loaded our belongings, tools, and building materials into the Impala, GTO, and Bobby’s van and set off for Oregon.  Since we were driving across most of four states with no one to spell us behind the wheel, it was late evening of the second day by the time we arrived in Eugene.  We booked rooms at a motel on the western end of the city for the several weeks it would take to make the house habitable, since the one motel in Veneta wasn’t ideal for an extended stay.  We had dinner at a nearby Greek restaurant and then fell into our beds, worn out by the long drive and knowing we had an early start the next day.

The following morning, we met Ms. Strazynski at the house for a final walk-through before the closing.  We then went to the bank in Eugene which currently owned the property, where we read through and signed at least two dead tree’s worth of paperwork before handing over the certified checks for the down payment and closing fees.  Once we had the keys and our copies of the documents in our hands, we picked up Bobby from the motel and returned to the Warner House.

The dumpster we’d ordered was waiting on the street in front of the property.  We parked our vehicles in the driveway and unloaded the tools and supplies into the garage, which was in somewhat better condition than the house itself.  Then we unlocked the front door and walked into our own house for the very first time.

I stopped in the foyer and looked around, overwhelmed for a moment.  We’d been here only a few hours before, but now this place was _ours_.  Dean’s expression was equally stunned, and his eyes were a bit misty.

“So how does it feel to be legitimate property owners now?” Bobby asked gruffly.

“Man, I dunno what to say!” my husband replied.  “We ain’t ever really had a _home_ before, except for Baby and your house.  I don’t think either of us expected to have anything more, not until recently.”

I nodded in agreement.  “I’ve wanted this all my life—a home, stability, some sense of safety and normalcy.  When I was younger, I thought I’d have to give up everyone I loved in order to have that.  When I got older, I realized family was more important and thought I had to let go of my earlier dreams instead.  But now to be able to have _both_ . . .”  As I trailed off, Dean clasped my hand in his and squeezed.

“You boys don’t even know how happy I am for you.  I’ve always been proud of what you’ve accomplished as hunters, but I never wanted you to end up like your dad, where hunting was the _only_ thing in your lives.  And despite the fundamental differences I had with the damn bastard ‘bout how he raised you, I think he’d be glad too, seeing you like this,” Bobby said.

He cleared his throat and continued.  “Well, enough of that!  We got work to do and can’t start bawling like little girls.  First order of business is clean-up and demo, right?  So let’s grab the crowbars and sledgehammers and get to it!”

We spent the rest of the day and most of the next clearing out the accumulated debris and trash and demolishing anything either not original to the house (or not a good reproduction) or too damaged to refurbish.  I made judicious use of my telekinesis to knock down and lift far more than with muscles alone.  Dean had more limited access to the ability through our soul bond, but he utilized it efficiently to pull out nails, contain and sweep up dust and small particulates, and hold up buckets and trash bags.

Once the wreckage was removed, we were able to start on the renovations.  First on the list was getting one of the bathrooms functional, to avoid having to rent a port-a-john.  We decided to start with the main floor guest bathroom, as it was small and wouldn’t take long to retile, repaint, and replace the fixtures.

Since the space was too cramped to allow all three of us to work inside, I elected to tackle the yard instead.  It perhaps wasn’t as high a priority as other tasks in the house, but I felt that clearing out the overgrowth would give a clear sign to neighbors and passersby that the property was no longer abandoned.  Rather than breaking out the weed whacker and other lawn equipment, I gave my abilities full rein, after ensuring no one was near enough to see anything.  Thus I was able to trim the tall grass, pull dead plants, remove most of the fallen branches and other rubbish, and even partially dredge the pond with much less time and sweat.  After transporting the yard waste to the dumpster, I sprayed the driveway, walkways and patio with weed killer and watered the lawn.

Towards evening, Dean wandered outside with a couple beers and sat next to me on the back porch steps.  “Yard looks a _hell_ of a lot better now!  You got a lot done in one day, kiddo.”

I took a swig from the bottle he’d handed me.  “I totally cheated.  It would’ve been _much_ harder doing this the mundane way.  Not to mention nastier—the shit I pulled out of the pond smelled almost as bad as a ripe corpse!  The grass will need another trim in three or four days, and then it should be short enough to use a lawnmower after that.  But at least this place doesn’t look like a Scooby Doo villain’s lair anymore.  How’s the bathroom coming along?”

“Walls are painted and tiles are set.  Gotta wait for the mortar to cure before we can go back in, so we can’t spread the grout ‘til tomorrow evening.  So we’ll start on replacing the busted windows ‘til then.  After the grout’s done, we hafta reglaze the tub and put in the new toilet, sink, and shit.  The bathroom should be good to go by the time Jody gets here,” he said.

“Sounds good.  After we get the windows in, what should I work on while you and Bobby are finishing the bathroom?” I asked.

“You mind tackling the wallpaper removal?  It’s a crap job, but your TK and pyro should make it easier to steam and pull it all down.  It’s a damn shame most of the original shit got fucked up, but the stuff we ordered will look awesome!”

I sighed.  “Sure, dude.  Did you get a chance to talk to Collin yet?”

“Yeah, and he’s cool with working around our reno schedule—things are usually slow there between Thanksgiving and New Year’s.  So I’ll start working part-time in December and switch up to full-time in January.”

“And Dr. Visyak will be sending me some translation work, so I’ll be able to bring in some income too until my job at the grad school starts.  Assuming I get in, of course,” I added.

“Don’t worry, Sammy—they’d be total dumbasses not to accept you.”  My big brother threw an arm around my shoulders.  “Now let’s go get some dinner and relax in our motel room.  Gotta a lotta work tomorrow!”

***

Three days later, Bobby drove to the Eugene Airport early in the morning to pick up Jody.  We went straight to the house, where we worked on installing new storm windows over the original and replacement windows.  Once that was done, we needed to pressure wash the entire exterior and then repair as much as we could before the weather became too cold to allow mortar, stucco, paint, and varnish to cure properly.

We were mounting one of the second-story storms over the front porch when Bobby’s van pulled into the driveway.  We descended the ladder as he and Jody came up the walkway and waited as she gave the house and yard a once-over.

“Wow, guys, this is a _great_ place!” she exclaimed.  “I mean, obviously it needs quite a bit of work right now, but I can totally see the potential.  It’ll be fabulous when you’re done!”

Dean and I both grinned, and I said, “Thanks, Jody!  We certainly hope so!  Bobby can show you around inside while we finish with these storm windows, and then we can all go grab lunch.”

“Nonsense!  This is _your_ house, so one of you should take her around,” Bobby retorted.  “Sam, why don’t you have the honor, and I’ll help Dean with the windows?  Go on, scram!”

“Yessir!”  I rolled my eyes in Jody’s direction, and she suppressed a smile as she followed me inside.

I walked her through the house, pointing out the features and explaining our plans for each room.  We ended in the kitchen, where we had our cooler and a couple of camp chairs set up.  I pulled two sodas from the cooler and handed one to her.

“I am _so_ glad you guys found this place!  You deserve a chance to settle down a bit and enjoy yourselves after everything you’ve done,” the sheriff said after taking a drink.

“Well, we’re both very grateful that you came out here to help us, especially right before the holidays.  Are you _sure_ you don’t mind spending Thanksgiving here instead of with your family?” I asked.

“I figure you need all hands on deck with a project this big.  And the sooner we get this in livable condition, the sooner you can move out of that motel and in here!”  She paused for a moment, looking pensive.  “As for the holidays, I think it’s better to be away from my family right now.  It’s just too _soon_ after . . . after everything with Sean.  They mean well, but none of them truly _understands_ what happened to him.  And I just don’t have the energy to pretend right now.

“And some of them don’t entirely approve of what’s begun between me and Bobby either, between his reputation in town and how soon it’s been.  Sometimes _I_ wonder myself if I’m rushing into things!  I mean, it’s been less than a year since Sean’s death, and I’ve always felt that mourning for a loved one should never be rushed.”  She sighed.

I reached over and put a hand over hers.  “None of us think any less of you for this, Jody.  All of us, Bobby included, know that you’re still grieving for your husband.  We don’t expect anything else—like you said, this is something that _should_ take time.  We also understand that the circumstances in which you and Bobby got closer were unusual, to say the least.  Think of it as like being in a war zone—everything, including emotions, is heightened, and events happen way faster than in normal situations.

“The important thing is that you make each other happy.  I know, despite the teasing we’ve thrown at Bobby, that Dean and I are thrilled to see you together.  Bobby’s been alone for far too long, but he’s been doing better in the past few months than we’ve ever seen him.  You both deserve some joy after what you’ve gone through.”

“You’re a very wise man, Sam Winchester.”  She smiled at me.  “Now let’s get some lunch, and then you can show me what you want me to work on first.”

After lunch, we installed the remainder of the storm windows and tore down more of the wallpaper inside.  The next morning, Dean and Jody headed to the grocery store to pick up materials for a low-key Thanksgiving meal.  While they were shopping, Bobby and I went to the house, where we pressure-washed the exterior.  We then moved inside and cleaned up the kitchen and dining room.

When the others arrived, we set up the food that needed to stay warm in the chafing dishes they’d also bought and put what needed to stay cold in the cooler.  Since it was too early to eat yet, we worked on smaller tasks around the property, like pulling weeds, spackling cracks in the plaster, and replacing light fixtures.  Bobby was used to our abilities by now, but Jody looked startled the first few times she saw things like yard debris flying across the yard into a trash bag as I cleared a garden plot or the bucket of joint compound floating beside Dean as he repaired a patch of wall.

Once it got to early afternoon, we took turns cleaning up in the guest bathroom before gathering in the dining room.  In lieu of a dining table, Dean and I spread a blanket on the floor so we could eat picnic-style.  In the kitchen, chafing dishes of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, and green bean casserole and tubs of gravy and cranberry sauce were set up on some plywood boards over a couple of sawhorses.

After everyone had filled their plates and sat on the blanket, Dean cleared his throat.  “Listen, me and Sam don’t have much experience doing the holiday thing.  Growing up, we were lucky if Dad was actually around and remembered to get us a bucket of KFC.  And we ain’t ever really had much to be thankful for before—always too busy moving on to the next case, worrying ‘bout saving the world or each other.  But now we’ve got each other, this house, and a chance to settle down and have a taste of a normal life.”

“And we’re both really glad that you’re spending this holiday with us, even though we can’t offer a proper Thanksgiving dinner yet,” I added.  “Until now, the closest we ever got was the couple of times Dad left us with Bobby at this time of year, and he gave us a real home-cooked meal instead of takeout.  That meant a lot to us, and we hope to return the favor soon.”

“Well, you know we don’t care about the surroundings.  Holidays are about being with family, so I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than with you boys,” Bobby said.  “And maybe this place will be ready for the whole traditional turkey dinner thing by Christmas.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that—anyone else notice that the repairs are going a hell of a lot easier than expected?  Or that some of the damage ain’t as bad as when we first looked at the house?” my brother asked.  “I think how we took down the poltergeist did something we didn’t expect.”

I sat up straight.  “Really?  I thought the renovations were coming along quickly, but I just assumed that was all you and Bobby.  I mean, Bobby built his panic room in a weekend because he was bored, and I’m pretty sure you could rebuild the Impala better than new from just the steering wheel and a couple of hubcaps.”

“Your brother and I may be good, but this ain’t all us.  Normally when you get into a reno, you start finding more problems, not less.  I didn’t say anything earlier though, ‘cause I figured you two deserved a bit of good luck for a change.”  Bobby looked over at Dean.  “Have you tried scanning the house?”

He nodded.  “There’re low-level EMF readings all over.  They ain’t as strong as when Warner was still here, but they’re fucking everywhere.  And I can feel _something_ , though it ain’t really thoughts.”

I extended my psychic senses and studied the energy I’d tied into the building.  “Huh!  The power I pulled from the ghost doesn’t seem to be simply waiting passively like I expected.  It appears to be reacting somehow to the areas that need work.”

“So are you saying this house is alive now?” Jody asked curiously.

“No, not exactly.  What’s there isn’t sentient—I don’t know if it’s really even aware.  It’s acting on a mostly instinctual level, trying to protect and slowly heal the house,” I replied.

“Might be some lingering remnant of Warner’s consciousness, which makes some sense given how obsessed he was with this place,” Bobby said thoughtfully.  “Can’t say I’ve heard of something like this before, but I’ll check the lore books when I get back home.  Least it seems to be beneficial so far.”

“Well, until we have reason to believe otherwise, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.  Don’t worry about the house and enjoy the rest of the holiday together!” Jody stated firmly.

“Yes ma’am!”  Dean immediately stuffed an enormous chunk of turkey in his mouth and grinned when I made a face at his manners.

We turned our attention to the food, which was surprisingly good for supermarket fare.  While we ate, Jody entertained us with the latest shenanigans of some of the local characters in Sioux Falls.  After we cleaned up and packed the leftovers in the cooler, we cracked open some beers and watched football on my laptop.  Once the game was over, we then went through catalogs from local furniture stores and discussed decorating ideas.

Bobby eventually took Jody back to the motel, leaving us to finish tidying and close up the house before returning to the motel ourselves.  I’d just loaded the cooler into the Impala’s trunk when my husband wrapped his arms around my waist.

_So that was our first holiday in our own house.  Was it enough for you, Sammy?_ he murmured, his lips brushing the nape of my neck.

I turned to face him and noticed he looked a little downcast, his eyes not meeting mine.  _Is this about that memory of having Thanksgiving dinner with Stephanie’s family?_

Dean shrugged.  _I know what we saw in Heaven that night was manipulated to try to fuck with us.  But that_ was _a happy memory for you.  And I really wanted today to be good for you, baby boy, but—_

I immediately laid a finger over his lips.  _Stop right there, Dee.  You have_ nothing _to regret about today.  Yeah, back when I was a dumb kid, I was obsessed with the trappings of ‘normal’ and what I didn’t have.  And I didn’t appreciate all that you_ did _give me.  But I’ve learned since then about what’s_ really _important._  

_I don’t care that the house isn’t finished, that we don’t have any furniture yet, or that our meal wasn’t home-cooked.  This is still the best Thanksgiving I’ve_ ever _had, because I’m sharing it with you in our very own home.  This is what_ truly _matters to me._   I replaced my finger with my mouth and kissed him deeply.

He sighed and relaxed against me.  _Okay, kiddo.  I just wanna make sure you’re happy._

_Being with_ you _is what makes me happy.  The house, the car, and the rest are wonderful, and I’m very grateful to have them.  But even if we lost all that, I’d still consider myself fortunate as long as we’re together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's come a long way, but he still sometimes worries that he or what he's doing isn't enough for Sam. Fortunately, Sam doesn't let him think like that for long!
> 
> I recognize that the turnaround times for the bank's response and the closing date are completely unrealistic. I've never dealt with a bank-owned property myself, but I've watched enough HGTV to know that banks take forever to respond. But I want the boys to be moved in before Christmas, so I had to tweak things.
> 
> The idea for a support network for hunters is totally inspired by Lochinvar's concept of the Talismen. If you haven't already, please check out her work here on AO3--she's an amazing writer! Her story Wingman in particular is one of my favorite bookmarks.
> 
> As you might have noticed, I've adjusted the chapter count. It's still an estimate, but this is turning out longer than I initially expected. Updates will continue to go up on Fridays. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos are highly appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The renovations continue, Dean's new job starts, and the boys get some potentially troubling news . . .

Bobby and Jody stayed around for another week.  The weather remained warm enough to allow us to complete the repairs to the exterior of the house.  We also managed to finish patching and priming the interior walls, leaving them ready for paint and wallpaper.

Before they left, Bobby told us, “I’m leaving the van with you until you’ve finished the major work around here.  I’ve got other vehicles I can use back home, and you’re gonna need it to haul tools and supplies.  Speaking of which, all the tools I brought are yours now.  Most of ‘em are extras I acquired over the years, and a few others I got specifically for you.  Think of this as one of your wedding/housewarming gifts.”

He brushed off our thanks and continued, “You boys call me if you need anything before Christmas.  In the meantime, concentrate on the house and don’t worry about hunting.  Me and Garth will monitor the news articles and only call you in if we can’t find someone else in the area.  You can start thinking about picking up cases after you’ve moved and had a chance to settle in.”

The following Monday, Dean started his new job at the auto restoration shop.  His boss had agreed to let him work part-time until Christmas Eve so that we’d have more time for the renovations.  The shop would be closed between Christmas and New Year’s Day, after which Dean would begin working full-time.

After Dean left our motel room early that morning, I drove to the public library in Venata.  Dr. Visyak had sent me scans of some tablets to translate, and I decided to use the library’s wi-fi rather than struggle with the motel’s spotty connection.  My Phoenician was a little rusty, so the translation easily kept me engrossed until noon.  I then packed up my laptop and notes and met up with my brother at the house.

“How was your first day of gainful employment?” I asked as I unwrapped the turkey hoagie he’d handed me.

He swallowed the mouthful of Italian hoagie and grinned happily.  “Awesome, man!  I’m working on this _sweet_ sixty-six Stingray.  The customer is outta town for a while, so he don’t care that I’m only working on it part-time right now.  And you should _see_ some of the beauties the other guys are working on!  There’s a sixty-nine Shelby, a Deuce hotrod, a fifty-three Skylark, a Studebaker Phaeton, and a seventy-one HemiCuda.”

“Sounds like you’re in heaven, Dee,” I said, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“Just about!  All I need is a kickass burger joint next door and you showing up for a nooner, and I’ll be set!”  He waggled his eyebrows at me.  “By the way, I told the guys about your GTO, and they wanna see it.”

“I guess you can take her into work one day instead of the Impala.”

He gave me an exasperated look.  “ _Or_ you can come by the shop.  They wanna meet _you_ too, dumbass!”

“And they don’t mind that we’re . . . together?”

“What, the gay thing?  Nah, most of ‘em are pretty cool.  Two of the guys have been going out for nearly five years.  This one guy, Russ, does mutter something rude once in a while, but Mark and Raul just use it as an excuse to make out in front of him.”  Dean smirked around his sandwich.

I snorted in laughter.  “Maybe you can sic them on Don if he ever comes around here!”

“Nah, I’m gonna keep him as a _personal_ project.  So what did the good professor send you?”

“Scans of clay tablets from Tyre from the early ninth century BC.  She’s helping out a colleague whose normal translator is out sick.  I didn’t get as much done as I’d like, since the library here in town isn’t exactly stocked with resources on the Phoenician language.”  I carefully rewrapped the remainder of my sandwich for later.

He wadded up his wrapper and tossed it into the open garbage bag in the kitchen.  “Why didn’t you go to the university library, dude?”

“It’s been less than a week since I got the acceptance letter and sent in my response, so I doubt I’m in their system yet.  I can make do with what I’ve got here for a few more days,” I said as I stood and fished a respirator and pair of ear plugs out of the bag from the hardware store.

We’d spent the past three days since dropping Bobby and Jody off at the airport with painting the interior walls and ceilings.  Now we were moving on to refinishing the woodwork and floors, which in turn had to be done before the professionals could hang the new wallpaper or we could work on the kitchen.  I was going to start in the master bedroom with the floor sander we’d rented, while Dean would begin stripping any damaged woodwork on the other side of the house.

I watched him gather up his supplies for a moment before stepping up behind him and sliding an arm around his waist.  _Hey, how about we call it early today for a change?  We should celebrate your first day at the new job!_

He sighed.  _I dunno if that’s a good idea, dude.  We got a lotta work to do if we want to be moved in before Christmas._

 _I get that, man.  But we’ve been busting our asses and pulling late hours almost every day for the past two weeks now.  And most nights we’ve been too tired to do much of anything by the time we fall into bed._ One _evening off won’t hurt us,_ I wheedled.

My husband turned in my arms and looked up at me, his eyes soft.  _Feeling a bit neglected, little brother?  Okay, fine.  We’ll stop around five, get cleaned up back at the motel, and find someplace nice to eat.  We didn’t do much to celebrate you getting into the graduate program, so we can do that too._

 _Great!_   I gave him a kiss and then headed off to the bedroom.

A few hours later, we packed up and left the house.  We made a quick stop at the motel to shower and change and then went to a small Thai restaurant nearby.  Over plates of satay, green curry, and pad thai, we discussed everything from the latest Jayhawks game to his new co-workers to what furniture to buy first.  Afterwards, we found a bar a couple blocks from the motel which had decent low-priced beer and a couple pool tables.  We had a few drinks and won a little money—though not enough to cause any hard feelings—before retiring to our room.

I was already feeling more than a little aroused by the time we got inside.  There was something about watching Dean during a successful hustle that always stirred me up.  It was more than how amazing his ass looked when he bent to take a shot or the phallic associations of how he handled his cue.  It was also the confidence in how he moved around the table and played the con, the assurance with which he took each shot and sent the balls exactly where he wanted them to go.  The moment the door closed behind us, I pushed him against it and claimed his lush mouth.

“Whoa there, Trigger!” he gasped when I let him up for air, before grinning up at me.  “Guess you liked how I was handling my stick earlier, huh?”

“Do you have any idea how tough it was, all those years before we got together, to hide how turned on I’d get watching you play?” I asked, then kissed him again and busied my hands with divesting him of his outer layers.

“Hey, not like you ain’t distracting to look at either, baby boy!  Fortunately, neither of us hafta hide how we feel anymore.”

My brother slipped out from between me and the door, took my hand, and led me to the bed, where he pushed me down and climbed onto my lap after kicking his boots off.  He immediately fisted his hands in my hair and slotted his mouth against mine.  We kissed deeply for several minutes, pausing only to hurriedly tug off more of each other’s clothes. 

Once we were both down to bare skin, I lay back, pulling him down with me, my hands roaming across the firm muscles of his back.  He shifted his head to nip at my earlobe, then kissed his way down to the base of my neck.  While he sucked a love mark there, I groaned and slid my hands between us to pinch and tug at his nipples.  He moaned in turn and curled his fingers around my cock, thumbing my slit and rubbing up and down my length.

 _That feel good, Sammy?_ he crooned as I gasped and thrust into his hand.  _Gonna take care of you tonight, sweetheart.  Make up for the past coupla weeks, okay?_

As he continued to stroke my member, Dean shifted downward to suckle at my nipples.  They hardened as he alternated between each of the tender nubs, while my cock leaked enough pre-cum to make his fingers slick and sloppy.  I felt my balls begin to tighten up and quickly pushed his hand away.

“Sl—slow down, Dee!  I don—don’t want to cum too soon,” I panted.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?”  He smirked up at me before sliding down even further and wrapping those sinful lips around my shaft.

He lapped at the head momentarily and then swallowed me down to the base.  I dug my fingers into his dark gold hair and thrust up into his mouth as he sucked and hummed _Black Dog_.  It wasn’t long before I was shouting and ejaculating down his throat.  He swallowed, licked his lips clean, and sat up.

“Don’t worry, baby—not done with you yet!”  He then straddled my hips and sank down, enveloping my still stiff cock in his wet heat.  His eyelids fluttered shut as his inner walls flexed around me.  “Damn, you always feel so fucking good!”

At first my lover just rocked his hips against mine and caressed my chest with his fingertips.  He began rising up until only my glans was still inside him and then pushing back down slowly.  I sat up and put my arms around his waist, lowering my head to capture his lips.  He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed back ardently.  His motion sped up as I surged up into his tight channel, and he mewled into my mouth as my strokes brushed against his prostate. 

We moved together faster and faster, until the room resounded with our sighs and moans and our flesh striking together.  I could feel our pleasure entwining and increasing with each thrust of my member into him, with each squeeze of his passage around me.  He arched back, leaning his hands on my thighs, and cried out while continuing to ride me furiously.  I dropped a hand between us and grasped his dusky cock.  It took only a few quick jerks before he was screaming into his orgasm, his back curving until his head nearly touched my shins and his seed splashing across my abdomen.  As he clenched tightly around my shaft, I groaned and came hard inside him.

Dean slumped against me, and I in turn collapsed back against the pillows.  His contented purr rumbled against my chest, and his inner membranes quivered around my cock.  I slipped a hand between his legs and felt my cum dripping out of his entrance.

He blinked up at me, his green eyes heavy and languid.  _Feeling better now, Sammy?_

 _Getting there, though let’s not let this go for so long again!_   I pressed a kiss into his temple.  _It’s not just the sex, though that’s_ always _spectacular.  I’ve also missed just hanging out with you, enjoying ourselves and talking about something other than what work needs to be done._

He gave me a contrite kiss on my shoulder.  _Sorry about that, kiddo.  Guess I got too wrapped up in trying to get everything done right away.  I just wanna get us outta this motel room.  I mean, it’s pretty nice compared to some of the shitholes we’ve stayed at, but it ain’t_ home _, ya know?_

 _I get that, and I get obsessing over a project too—I know I get that way about research sometimes.  But it won’t be the end of the world if the house isn’t ready when we originally planned.  And if we really want, we could move in once the floors are done and then finish the rest of the work,_ I pointed out.

 _That ain’t a bad idea.  It would save us the cost of the motel room for a coupla weeks, and save us the time traveling to and from the city every day.  This again is why you’re the smart one!_   He stretched up to give me a kiss before settling against my shoulder again.

_Hey, you’re plenty smart too!  And don’t get comfortable—we’re not finished yet!_

With that, I rolled us over until my brother was on his back and I was kneeling between his thighs.  He immediately wrapped his legs around my waist and sighed happily as I started to plunge in and out of his slick channel.  I shifted until my member rubbed against his sweet spot with each pass and listened to him keen at the stimulation.  He hitched his legs up higher and arched his back so that I could sink further into his warm depths.

“ _Ahh_ , yeah, Sammy!  Fucking love your cock!  _Ahh_ . . . c’mon, gimme more!” he begged.

I growled, pushed his legs up until his calves were resting on my shoulders, and quickened my pace.  He soon cried out and shivered through another climax, but I didn’t stop.  I pounded inexorably into his velvety passage, enjoying being surrounded not only by the physical sensations of his taut, moist warmth but also the emotional sensations of his desire, bliss, and love.  Dean was everything, and being with him, in him, giving him as much affection and pleasure as I could, was a tangible expression of how much he meant to me.

As our passion rose and began to crest, I leaned down and caught his mouth in a fervent kiss.  He moaned and enfolded me in a tight embrace before shaking in ecstasy, his hot channel clamping firmly on my member.  I thrust into him once more before cumming hard enough that my vision spun.

By the time I regained coherence, I was lying on my back against the pillows again, with my husband gently swabbing us both clean with a damp washcloth.  He tossed it towards the bathroom and curled around me, purring even louder than before.

 _That was fucking awesome!_ he declared with a slow kiss.  _Love you so much, baby brother._

_Not as much as I love you, big brother!_

***

The next few days passed in a similar fashion.  Dean went to work at the auto shop in the morning, while I went to the library to complete more translations for the professor.  We met at the house for lunch and then continued sanding the floors and stripping and sanding the woodwork.  Now though, we made sure to stop before it got too late at night and returned to the motel while we still had the energy to make love.

I did stop one of those days at the shop to show off the GTO and meet my brother’s co-workers, who turned out to be an eclectic but welcoming bunch.  Collin, the boss, was almost as big of a geek as Dean and acted as a father figure to his employees.  Karen, the matronly office manager, offered me cookies as soon as I arrived.  Mark, the tall, burly head mechanic, and Raul, the slim, pretty custom painter, made an adorable couple.  Another mechanic, a skinny, feisty girl named Myra, was Collin’s youngest daughter.  The only sour note was Russ, the last mechanic, who glared when Dean put his arm around my waist during the introductions but didn’t say anything.

By the fourth day of Dean’s first week on the job, we’d finished the sanding and were cleaning up all the dust in preparation to put down the first coat of varnish on the woodwork and floors.  While waiting for each layer to dry and cure, we planned to work on the master bathroom.  Once it was safe to walk on the floors, we’d bring in the wallpaper hangers and focus on the kitchen.  We could also move in at that point if we wanted.

I was carrying some trash out to the dumpster that afternoon when I heard a familiar rustle of feathers.  I turned and saw Castiel standing on the sidewalk outside our front gate.  I hadn’t seen him since our wedding reception, and he still looked good—his suit and trenchcoat were clean and undamaged, his hair only slightly rumpled, and his blue eyes serene.

I grinned widely and pulled him into a hug.  “Hey, Cas!  It’s great to see you!”

He carefully hugged back, a bit awkward as always, before stepping back.  “Hello, Sam.  It is good to see you too.  I initially went to Sioux Falls, and Bobby told me to come here.  I was unaware that you wanted to purchase a house.”

“Well, we haven’t seen you since the night of the wedding, and we didn’t actually talk about getting a place of our own until near the end of our honeymoon,” I explained.  “Why don’t you come on in?  Dean’s inside, putting down the first coat of varnish on the built-ins.”

“I did not want to disturb your defenses.  I can see the Enochian wards and some of the other safeguards you have put in, and I presume you have angel- and demon-proofed this property at least as well as the salvage yard.”

“Yeah, we placed some blessings on the iron fence after we repaired it, and the other protections are tied into the house itself.  There’s salt and holy water mixed into all the paint and varnish we’ve used, as well as a line of salt under the threshold of each entrance and behind the storm panes on every window, and we’ve been carving various sigils and runes in strategic places around the house.  But if you study the wardings, you can see we put your name in as an exception.”

Cas peered at the writing on the fence and house, which were only visible to inner sight.  “Ah, yes.  I do see that you’ve altered them to allow me to pass through.  And . . . to allow Crowley as well.”  There was a trace of distaste in his voice.

I shrugged.  “Hey, he’s our friend too, and he hasn’t done anything to not deserve our trust.  We figured this was more secure than the amulet Bobby gave you to let you past his protections, since something like that could fall into the wrong hands.”

I walked up the driveway, and the angel followed me into the house.  We found Dean in the study, brushing varnish on the sanded portions of the bookcases.  When he saw Cas, he immediately put the brush down and threw his arms around the seraph.

“Hey, buddy!  How ya doing?  You’re looking pretty good!” the other hunter exclaimed enthusiastically.

Castiel returned his hug with a little more ease and did not step back as quickly.  “Hello, Dean.  I am well.  I came here after Bobby informed me of this place.  You did not tell me you had found a new home.”  He looked a bit hurt.

“We weren’t trying to keep you outta the loop or anything, dude,” Dean assured him.  “We figured you were enjoying being with your family again, and we didn’t wanna disturb you.  And there really ain’t much to see yet.  We were gonna invite you over after we got the house fixed up.”

Cas nodded.  “I understand.  You seem to have accomplished quite a lot in a short amount of time, given when Bobby said you bought this property.”

“Well, Sam and I have been spending most of our time the past three weeks or so working on the renovations.  Bobby helped out for the first coupla weeks, and Jody was here for a week too.  We’ve been using our powers when we can, to move stuff around and shit like that,” Dean said.

“And the house itself is assisting us in a way.  There originally was a poltergeist here, and we were able to drain most of its energy and bind it to the house itself.  That energy managed to repair some of the damage on its own and has been easing the way for the work we’ve been doing,” I added.  “Anyways, how are things up in Heaven?”

“They are good so far.  Our father gave explicit instructions after you trapped Lucifer in the Cage again, so Michael has been working hard to bring the angels back in line after the chaos of the failed Apocalypse.  Many of my brothers and sisters are holding me in higher regard for my part in helping stop the Adversary and for how Father brought me back.”  The seraph’s expression was embarrassed.

“I have been trying to use this new esteem to convince them that we need to do more than simply watch, that we should be more involved in humanity.  Not to meddle in your lives for our own purposes, like what Zachariah did, but to _help_ people.”

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business?” my husband asked with a smile.

“Something like that, though perhaps not so direct.”  Cas’ face turned grave.  “I need to inform you that there is a faction, led by Raphael, which wishes to try to restart the Apocalypse and remake the Earth into the paradise _they_ want.  They want to take advantage of the fact that you, Michael’s and Lucifer’s true vessels, are technically still available.  Michael is keeping them in check, but even so they bear watching.”

“How do those assholes expect to kick off the End of Days again without the Seals?  Lilith is already dead, and we’re certainly not letting Dean get sent to Hell for _any_ reason!”  I wrapped a protective arm around my brother’s shoulders.

“I do not know, Sam.  I suspect they want to find another way to release the Morningstar.  Fortunately, all of the Horsemen’s rings except Death’s were destroyed, per your instructions, and I am unaware of any other means to open the Cage,” Castiel replied.  “Our concern is the amount of trouble they might cause while searching for another method.  Fortunately, they have nowhere near the clout or power to challenge Michael and the rest of us.”

“You sure Michael’s not gonna change _his_ mind?  He seemed pretty fucking gung-ho ‘bout fighting Satan before,” Dean said skeptically.

“Our father decreed that the fight was over after you imprisoned Lucifer, and that no one was to start it again.  Whatever Michael’s personal preferences might be, he will not go against Father’s orders,” the angel responded.

“That’s good to hear,” I said.  “What about Gabriel?  Has he come back?”

Cas shook his head.  “There’s been no sign of him since your reception.  His support would be invaluable in showing Raphael’s faction that they have no chance.  And I think he would be receptive to my efforts to turn the angels back into guardians instead of mere observers.  But none of us have been able to find him, even in his Trickster or Loki personas.”

“That sucks!  You’d think he’d finally stop being chickenshit now that the fighting’s over.  Well, it’s his loss.”  Dean shrugged.  “Since you’re here, lemme show you around the house.  Then me and Sam gotta get this first coat of varnish down on everything before we can stop for the day.”

“Thank you, Dean.  If you do not mind, I would like to help you.  It has been a long time since I have worked with my hands,” Cas stated.

“Sure thing, man.  We can use all the help we can get!  Sam, can you take over here while I give Cas the grand tour?”  I nodded, and my brother handed me the brush and led our friend away.

After the house tour, Castiel helped us apply varnish to the woodwork and floors.  Knowing his liking for burgers, we then took him to a local bar and grill for dinner, drinks, and another attempt at teaching him to play pool.  Back at our motel, we gave him the gift we’d gotten for him on our honeymoon, a large, polished queen conch shell.  Before leaving, he promised to return the next day.

Once we were alone, I sat at the dinette table to take off my shoes.  I straightened up to find my brother standing behind me, and he began to massage my neck and shoulders.  I sighed and leaned into his hands.

 _Okay, spill it.  You put up a good game face all evening, dude, but I can tell something’s bugging you,_ he demanded after I’d started to relax under his ministrations.  _Is it this shit with Raphael that Cas was talking ‘bout?_

 _Yeah, it is.  I thought we were finally_ done _with all that bullshit for good.  The thought that those douchebags could start that whole mess all over again_ terrifies _me,_ I admitted.

 _It ain’t gonna happen, little brother,_ Dean said firmly.  _Listen, it took the Devil and his goons_ decades _to set up the breaking of the Seals, and that_ still _only worked ‘cause they managed to keep us in the fucking dark.  But we know the score now, so there ain’t_ no _way that Raphael’s chumps are gonna trick us like that.  And we made_ damn _sure that no one else can use the rings to open the Cage again.  So that leaves those winged dumbasses up shit creek without a paddle unless they can find some other way to let Lucifer out._ And _they’d hafta get past Michael, Cas, and everyone else up there first._

_So what, you think we can just ignore this?_

_No, of course not!  But like they say, forewarned is forearmed.  Cas and his guys will be watching those asswipes like a hawk, and we’ll make sure he keeps us in the loop.  On our end, we can research into if there really_ is _any other way to open the Cage, and we’ll bring Bobby and everyone else in on the search.  If we do find something, then we can figure out how to stop it_ before _Raph’s crew can even start._

He came around to my front and took my hands.  _I know what’s_ really _scaring you, Sammy, and I promise, I_ ain’t _gonna end up in Hell again.  I learned my lesson the first time—even if something drastic happens, I know better than to make another fucking deal.  And remember that we got the King of Hell on our side.  Besides being our friend, Crowley don’t want the Apocalypse any more than we do!  He’ll wanna make sure just as much as we will that nothing happens to break the first Seal again.  So like I said, it_ ain’t _gonna happen._

I leaned forward to rest my head against his chest and put my arms around his waist.  _I hope you’re right, Dee.  I_ can’t _stand the thought of losing you like that, not again!_

My husband tilted my face up and bent down to kiss me reassuringly.  _You won’t, baby.  Hopefully Raphael is smart enough to realize the ship has sailed on breaking the Seals.  And if he ain’t,_ all _of us will make sure that it don’t happen again.  Team Free Will already beat the two most powerful archangels, even with all their plans and prophecies, so their younger brother’s half-assed attempt ain’t got a chance!_

 _Now c’mere.  I don’t want you worrying yourself sick over this shit.  We’ll take care of whatever we hafta, but I want you to focus on the_ good _things ahead of us—moving into our new house, starting school and your new job, and the rest of our lives together._   With that, he tugged me up and led me to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to throw some more smut in this chapter, because it felt like it'd been a while since the boys got some really good loving. Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> No spoilers, but the news about what's happening in Heaven is just setting up for the Part 5 of this series. This story is still going to be fluff, smut, romance, and a little bit of plot--nothing bad will be happening to our boys, I promise!
> 
> I've started a new job, so updates will be going up Friday evenings going forward. Constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos are always highly appreciated.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys celebrate their first Christmas together in their new house . . .

I looked around the foyer, family room, dining room, and kitchen one last time to make sure I hadn’t missed any of the decorations.  Collin had kept Dean late for a holiday luncheon before the auto shop closed until the new year, and he’d just texted that my husband was on his way home.

Castiel stepped forward and patted my shoulder.  “Everything looks fine, Sam.  Dean will be very pleased at what you have done.  But I should get going now.”

“What?  You aren’t staying?”

“This should be between just the two of you.  I will return the day after tomorrow for the party.”  He disappeared with a flutter.

I lit the pumpkin pie-scented candles on the kitchen counter and went over to the stereo to tune the radio to a station playing holiday music.  Not finding anything else that needed fiddling with, I sat on the couch to await Dean’s arrival.

We moved in a little over a week ago, after the floors had cured and the wallpaper had been installed.  We initially started with only a bed and the contents of our duffle and garment bags.  The master bathroom and kitchen were still a work in progress, as were numerous little projects like replacing door hardware, switch plates, and outlet covers.  Over the course of the following week, we finished the work on the main floor with Castiel’s assistance, and the furniture, rugs, and other décor we’d ordered were delivered and set up.

As the renovations neared completion, Dean started talking about trees, checking out decorations, and looking up recipes.  We hadn’t celebrated Christmas since before his crossroads deal came due, and I remembered with shame how my bah-humbug attitude had almost ruined what might’ve been his last holiday.  This time he was going to get the Christmas he deserved, but I decided to make it a surprise.  So I feigned disinterest whenever the subject came up and pretended to grudgingly agree to put up a few ornaments the day before.  Meanwhile, I spent part of my mornings the past couple of days buying the sort of decorations he’d been eyeing and hid them in the back of one of the upstairs crawlspaces.  The moment my brother left for work this morning, Cas and I began decorating the main living space.

It wasn’t long before I heard the side door open and footsteps come through the butler’s pantry, then Dean called out, “Hey, sorry I’m late!  Collin decided to take us all out for . . .”

His voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen and stopped to stare.  Evergreen garland wrapped with white lights was looped around the edges of the island facing the family room.  Holiday-themed towels hung off the oven door, and similarly themed magnets decorated the fridge doors.  More lighted garlands were draped on the fireplace mantel and the shelves to either side in the family room, the doorways to the dining room and foyer, and the sideboard in the dining room.  A nine-foot-tall live Douglas fir tree decorated in white lights, brass Victorian tinsel, and a medley of ornaments filled the corner of the family room between the stairs and back door.  A holly leaf-patterned tablecloth covered the dining table, and matching placemats were set on the breakfast bar in the kitchen.  Large poinsettias served as centerpieces for the dining table and coffee table, glass snowflakes and icicles hung from the light fixtures, and holiday-themed figurines sat on the end tables, mantel, sideboard, and various shelves.

I smiled at Dean’s stupefied expression as I took his hand and led him into the family room.  “So, do you like my surprise?”

His green eyes were as wide as possible as he looked around the room before turning his gaze to me.  “Dude, I dunno what to . . . I thought you weren’t into all this Christmas shit?”

I smiled even wider.  “That was all part of the con.  Do you know how _hard_ it is to lie to you around this soulbond thing?  I wanted to surprise you with a properly decorated house, especially after how I acted the last time you wanted to celebrate the holiday.  Go on, take a closer look at everything!”

He slowly wandered through the family room and dining room, and an ecstatic grin took over his face as he realized that mixed in among the more traditional decorations were plenty of geeky ornaments and figurines, from miniatures of his favorite starships hanging on the tree to a Darth Vader nutcracker to a Tardis snow globe and more.  He shouted with laughter when he noticed the angel on top of the tree resembled a certain seraph we knew, down to a little trench coat and blue tie.

He turned back to me and pulled me into a hug.  “Sammy, this is so _awesome_!  I can’t believe you pulled this off without me knowing!”

“Well, I spent some of my time shopping instead of working on translations the past few mornings, and Cas helped me pick up the tree and put everything up today.”  I took his hand once more and steered him towards the study.  As we passed through the foyer, I said, “There are wreaths and doormats for the front and side entrances and outdoor lights and garland too, but I didn’t put them out yet so they wouldn’t ruin the surprise when you got home.”

I stopped in the doorway to the study and pointed upward, to where a sprig of mistletoe was hanging from the lintel.  My husband grinned again, put his hands on either side of my face, and kissed me deeply.  We were both gasping a bit when we pulled apart.

“You’re amazing, baby boy!  You really thought of everything,” he declared.  “How the hell did you find a tree topper that looks like Cas?”

I coughed a little sheepishly.  “Um, well . . . it was left in a box next to the driveway yesterday.  I wouldn’t be surprised if a particular party-crasher appears again on Sunday.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Of course, ‘cause ain’t that how our life goes?  He better bring a good housewarming gift and not eat all my damn cookies if he does show up!”

“So, are there any other decorations you want to get?”

“Nah, this is plenty for our first time here.  We can always get more next year.  Now I gotta start working on the pies and cookies and shit for the party.”  He started to head back to the kitchen.

“Alright, then I’ll take care of the wreaths and stuff outside while you’re doing that,” I said.

I went up to the second floor and retrieved the outdoor decorations from the crawlspace.  I then spent the next couple of hours hanging the wreaths, wrapping lights around some of the bushes and trees, and looping garland around the posts of the front porch and front face of the fence.  I hooked the lights up to a timer, stepped back to the sidewalk to judge the effect, and declared myself satisfied with the results. 

When I went back inside, the aromas wafting from the kitchen were _heavenly_.  Dean had a couple of pumpkin and apple pies cooling on the counter and several trays of cookies baking in the oven.  The kitchen was primarily his domain, and as such he’d decided what went in it, from the quarter-sawn oak Craftsman cabinets to the soapstone countertop to the professional-grade stainless steel appliances.  My contribution had been finding cabinet hardware and backsplash tiles to match the tulip wallpaper border he’d selected.

I sat down at the breakfast bar and sniffed appreciatively.  “It smells _incredible_ in here.  _Please_ tell me this isn’t only for the party!”

He laughed.  “Don’t worry, kiddo!  The big pies are for Sunday, but I also made some mini ones just for us.  And I’m gonna put a plate of the cookies aside when they’re done.  Wanna lick the mixing bowls before I wash ‘em?”

“Hell yes!”  I happily proceeded to lick sugar cookie batter out of the bowl he handed me.  “Mmm . . . If you ever get tired of being a mechanic, you’d make a fabulous chef, man!  How much more do you have to make?”

He slurped up a scraping of chocolate chip cookie batter before answering.  “Gonna make some brownies after this, then I’ll start on dinner.  After we eat, I’ll marinate the lamb chops for tomorrow’s dinner and prep some of the stuff for Sunday.”

“Anything I can help with?  I know you think I’ll burn water, but I _can_ use a knife.”

“Sure, you can help chop up shit.  And don’t forget, you’re on dish duty, bitch!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  Jerk!”

After a dinner of homemade pizza, we worked in the kitchen for a few more hours before retiring.  While Dean was taking his nightly shower, I snuck off to place his gifts, wrapped earlier in the week and hidden in one of the basement crawl spaces, under the tree.  I then hurried back to the bedroom to undress and wash up before he noticed my absence.

By the time my brother emerged from the bathroom, I was safely ensconced in our bed.  We’d splurged on a California king with a pillowtop mattress, which felt almost sinfully comfortable after years of crappy motel beds.  The furniture in here, as in the rest of the house, was a mix of Mission and Shaker styles and so far consisted of the bed, two nightstands, a dresser, standing mirror, and small TV stand.  The walls were covered in a light green willow-patterned wallpaper, and the bedcoverings, pillows, and rug were in coordinating shades of darker green.

“Man, that shower is worth everything we put into it!  I could spend all fucking day in there,” he announced as he climbed into bed.

The shower in question was the glass door enclosure we’d installed in place of the generic shower-tub combo there when we bought the house.  Our shower wasn’t quite as luxurious as the one at Chavah Island, but it was big enough for both of us to fit inside easily and had a powerful rainfall showerhead, several body jets, a handheld sprayer, and its own on-demand water heater, which also fed the double vessel sinks set in a Mission vanity cabinet.  The bathroom was too small to allow for both the shower and a soaker tub, but the guest bathroom had a clawfoot tub if either of us had the urge to take a bath (Dean had a weakness for bubble baths that he thought I didn’t know about).

“It _is_ what you said you wanted, a shower almost as nice as at the resort,” I said as he settled in beside me.  “We still haven’t tried it out together though.”

“Well, I’m off work for the next week, and what still needs to be done for the second floor and the basement ain’t gonna take _all_ our time.  Enough talking now!”  Suiting actions to words, he fitted his mouth to mine.

As we kissed, I rolled over on top of my lover and slotted one of my legs in between his.  He immediately shifted so that our cocks were lying together and began rolling his hips to slide his against mine.  I groaned in appreciation and rocked my pelvis to match his rhythm, the pre-cum from both our members slicking the friction between them.  I moved my mouth to the spot behind his left ear and started to suck a love mark there, while he caressed my pectorals and toyed with my nipples.

We were panting and moaning heavily as we rubbed our shafts together vigorously, feeding off each other’s passion and adoration.  As I approached my peak, I strove to hold back, wanting to make sure my husband reached his climax before I tipped over.  Soon enough, he stiffened and gasped out my name as his semen shot between us.  I then let go and ejaculated with a shout.

I fell back on the bed with a contented sigh and used my telekinesis to bring a washcloth over from the bathroom.  After wiping us both clean and tossing the cloth back towards the bathroom, I gently tugged Dean over to rest against my side.

He stretched up to brush a soft kiss against my lips.  _Merry Christmas, little brother._

_Merry Christmas to you too, big brother._

***

I awoke the next morning to my brother giving me a wet, sloppy blowjob while humming _Ramble On_.  I ran my hands through his short blond hair and enjoyed the sight of his full lips wrapped around my cock and his green eyes gleaming against the colors in the room, as well as the feeling of his tongue swirling and throat vibrating around my shaft.  One of his hands was propping himself up against my thigh, and the other was swiftly stroking his own member.  I managed to last a couple of minutes before groaning and shooting my load into that sinful mouth.  A couple more jerks and he too was cumming all over his hand.

Dean licked first his lips and then his hand clean, after which he moved up on the bed and leaned over to kiss me.  He moved back, however, when I tried to pull him down for round two.

“Uh uh, not now, kiddo!  Food and presents first, then we can fool around,” he said with a laugh.  “Bobby and Jody ain’t getting here until later in the afternoon, so we’ll have plenty of time.”

“Really?  C’mon, Dee!” I whined.

“Hey, you don’t wanna end up on Santa’s naughty list already!  Besides, I promise the wait will be worth it!”  With that, he got out of bed and put on his robe.

I grumbled but got up, put on my own robe, and followed him into the kitchen.  I started up the coffee maker and then watched him throw together omelets and hash browns for breakfast.  After we ate, he made hot chocolate, and we carried the mugs over to the Christmas tree.

I noticed there was now another heap of wrapped gifts on the other side of the tree and presumed than my husband had slipped them there after I’d fallen asleep last night.  He sat down on the floor by that pile, and I took a seat by the ones I’d gotten for him.  We each took a present and handed it to the other to open.

My first gift was a leather satchel with a compartment for my laptop and another large enough to hold notebooks and even a textbook or two, as well as smaller pockets for my cellphone, calculator, pens, and more.  His was a vintage-styled turntable with a wooden cabinet.  The next gift I opened was a set of hardcover editions of the _Iliad_ , _Odyssey_ , _Aeneid_ , and _Oresteia_ , while he received vinyl LPs of several of his favorite Led Zeppelin, Metallica, and AC/DC albums to go with the turntable.  We both got each other a bunch of DVDs and Blu-Rays, including the _Cosmos_ and _Planet Earth_ series for me and the original _Star Wars_ trilogy (without Lucas’ awful later edits) and all the Akira Kurosawa samurai movies for him.  He gave me a Kindle, and I gave him several cookbooks, including one devoted only to pies.

The last present I handed to him was small, no bigger than my palm.  He tore off the wrapping, opened the box, and stared at the contents for the moment.  He then carefully lifted the platinum bracelet, the flat links etched with the same protective charms as the bracelet Mom had worn when she was younger, out of the box.

“Sammy, this is too much!” he breathed.  “I didn’t get you anything like this.  I—I don’t—”

I leaned over and pressed a finger to his soft lips.  “Don’t you _dare_ say that you don’t deserve this, Dee.  I wouldn’t have _anything_ if it wasn’t for you!  I’m not just talking about our house, which you worked so hard for, or my car, which you spend so much time on.  I wouldn’t be _alive_ if it wasn’t for all the times you protected me and saved me over the years.  I wouldn’t be _sane_ if you didn’t convince me to forgive myself for all the mistakes I’ve made.  And I wouldn’t be _happy_ if you hadn’t accepted me and loved me.  So giving you this is _nothing_ compared to all that!”

Dean flushed and cast his eyes down.  “I’m your big brother.  That’s just what you do for family.”

“No, love.  What you’ve done for me, given up for me, is _far_ above and beyond what anyone else would do for their dumbass kid brother,” I told him.  “There’s no way I can make up for what I owe you, but it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to try.  Giving you as much as I can and making you as happy as I can is simply a start.”

His eyes looked suspiciously damp.  “Dammit, dude, why d’ya hafta turn everything into a giant chick-flick?”

“Uh huh, you’re _so_ full of it.  Now c’mere.”  I tugged him closer and tenderly kissed each of his eyelids and then his lips.

He returned my kiss, then pulled back and cleared his throat.  “Uh, anyways, you need to clear out all this wrapping paper and clean the dishes.  I gotta take care of something in the bedroom.”

“You want me to tidy shit up _now_?”

“Well, I gotcha one more present, but I gotta get it ready.  You know, in the _bedroom_.”

“Oh.  _Oh!_   Um, okay, I—I’ll take care of everything out here then.”

He disappeared into the master bedroom.  I gathered up all the gift detritus and stuffed it into the trash can before attacking the dishes.  I figured it would take Dean a while to prepare, so I took my time cleaning up the kitchen.  I then made myself another cup of coffee and started to check out my new Kindle.

Eventually I heard my name being called.  I left the Kindle with the other presents and put my cup in the sink, then made my way to our bedroom.  I took a few steps into the room and stopped to take in the sight in front of me.

My husband was lying in the middle of the bed, watching me with a small smile on his lips.  He was wearing a bright red teddy trimmed in white fur along the top and bottom.  The sheer skirt was split from just below the bust line, revealing matching fur-trimmed red panties.  His legs were covered in red fishnet thigh-highs topped with white lace.  And on his head was a pair of adorable stuffed antlers with small bells on the ends of each tine.  As I approached the bed, I could see that his green eyes were highlighted by silvery shadow, his long lashes were darkened with black mascara, his lush mouth was stained with red gloss, and his fair skin was dusted with shimmering powder.

 _Ready to unwrap your gift, darling?_ he drawled.

_God, Dee!  You look stunning!_

_I know,_ he said smugly. _Now whatcha still doing the fuck over there?_

I quickly dropped my robe, hurried over to the bed, and sat beside him.  I placed a hand on his chest, right where the bust of the teddy covered his pectoral muscles, and leaned down to kiss those ruddy lips.  He reached up and threaded one hand through my hair and ran the other down my side.  When it reached my lap, his fingers began to caress my stiffening shaft.

 _Hurry, baby boy,_ he whispered, biting at my lower lip.  _Don’t wanna wait to feel that great big cock inside me!_

I choked a bit as the rest of my blood rushed southward and swiftly shifted to my knees on the bed.  He grasped his thighs and lifted them up and out, and I pushed the crotch of the panties aside to get a clear view of the pink furl of his entrance.  I slipped a finger inside first to make sure he was slick enough, then pulled it out and sank to the hilt in his tight passage.  He hummed as he stretched around me and gave a purring sound of satisfaction when I grazed his pleasure spot.  He then wrapped his legs around my waist while I slid in and out of his silky channel with long, firm strokes and listened to the bells on his antlers jingle with each thrust.

 _Mmm, Sammy . . . yeah.  You feel so good!_ Dean sighed as he undulated his inner walls against my member each time I hit his prostate.

I picked up my pace and ran my hands up his ribs and under the satin fabric of the teddy’s bust.  As I pinched at his nipples, I pushed his legs until they nearly touched his chest and drove into his heated passage firmly.  He cried out with each thrust as his climax approached, and I growled and pounded into him even harder.  He screamed as his seed spurted onto his belly and his hole clenched around my cock.  I surged into him a few more times before following him into a loud orgasm.

After I fell back on the pillows beside him and we both caught our breath, my lover chuckled.  “Man, it’s real good we got some space between us and the neighbors.  ‘Cause the noises coming outta here ain’t exactly family-friendly!”

I groaned and gave him a half-hearted shove.  “Shut up, you ass!”

“Hey, you love my ass, and you know it!  And since we got lots of time before I need to start cooking today . . .”  Dean rolled up onto his hands and knees and threw a sultry look over his shoulder in my direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sammy's decided to make up for all the crappy Christmas' in their past. And plenty of smut in this chapter too! :)
> 
> As I mentioned in an earlier comment, a lot of what the boys have done to their house is inspired by renovations my hubby and I have done/are planning to do in our house. We have the tulip wallpaper border in our kitchen, though it'll be a while before we get to the rest. To see that and the other wallpapers the boys used, check out: http://www.bradbury.com/index.html.
> 
> I suspect the chapter count is going to go past 20 too with the way things are progressing, though I'm holding off on updating it until I have a better estimate about how much farther. Until then, updates will continue to go up on Friday evenings unless otherwise stated. Constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guests arrive as the boys continue to celebrate the holidays, and their family unexpectedly expands . . .

It was close to evening when the doorbell rang.  We’d long since cleaned ourselves up and, after a leisurely lunch, put away all the gifts and started preparing dinner for tonight and some of the food for the party tomorrow.  Dean of course was doing the actual cooking, while I helped with cutting, mixing, fetching, and washing.

I wiped my hands off and went to answer the door.  “Bobby, Jody, come on in!  How was the flight?”

“No flight—the stuff we’re bringing for you was too bulky to take on a plane, so it was easier to drive here,” Bobby said as he walked in carrying a file box.

“We came in a rental, since we’ll be taking the van back,” Jody added, coming in behind him with an overnight bag and wheeled luggage.

I asked, “Do you need help unloading the car?”

“No, we don’t want to ruin the surprise.  Just let us know where we’re staying, and we’ll take care of it,” Jody responded.

“Okay.  The guest room on this floor is completely finished, so that’s the obvious choice.  If you need separate rooms, the upstairs bedroom isn’t done yet, but we do have a bed up there,” I said.  “The sofa in the family room is a sleeper, and we can throw down air mattresses and sleeping bags in the bonus room if any of our friends need crash space tomorrow.”

“The room down here should be fine for us.  Now you scram back into the kitchen, and we’ll join you as soon as we’re unpacked,” Bobby ordered.

I grinned and hurried back to inform my husband about the latest development.  By the time they emerged from the guest room, Dean was putting the finishing touches on the food, and I was setting the table.  We managed to keep our faces straight in front of Jody, but the moment she went into the kitchen to bring something out, we both smirked at Bobby.

“You idjits better wipe those grins before I whack ‘em off!” he growled.  “This ain’t no big deal, ya morons!”

“Of course it is, dude!  We’re thrilled that everything’s going so well with you two,” I told him.

“Well, the two of you look like a pair of smacked asses, so quit it!  _Balls_!”

Dean and I snickered at the older man’s discomfiture but quickly sobered up when the sheriff returned with more serving utensils.  We all took our seats and started passing around the platter of lamb chops and bowls of potato au gratin, glazed carrots, roasted leeks with bacon, and dinner rolls.

After a few minutes of silent eating, Jody exclaimed, “Dean, this is _amazing_!  Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

He blushed a little and shrugged.  “Eh, it was kinda self-defense.  If it’d been up to Dad, we woulda survived on nothing but Chef Boyardee and Ramen and probably died of scurvy or some shit.  So I started to figure out how to make stuff on my own, and Bobby let me look at his wife’s cookbooks whenever we stayed with him.  Pastor Jim taught me a bit too.  I’d make simple things mostly, but sometimes I’d try something fancy.  Sammy just got me a buncha awesome cookbooks, so it’ll be fun to try them out.”

“You should be proud of yourself then.  This is better than at some of the restaurants I’ve been to,” she said.

He flushed even more, and I nudged him gently with my shoulder.  The conversation turned to how the renovations had turned out and how the project of organizing the hunters was going.

After dinner, Bobby and Jody retrieved several boxes from their room and met us in the study.  Most were file boxes like the one I’d seen him carry into the house and seemed heavy.  Bobby set the first one on our partner desk and took off the lid.

“So the tools I gave you a couple weeks ago were only the first part of what I’d planned to give you for a combined wedding, housewarming, and Christmas gift,” he said.  “This and these other heavy-ass boxes here are the rest.  They’re full of lore books and are comparable to a good chunk of my collection.  Like with the tools, most are duplicates I acquired or ended up with one way or another, and a few I got specifically for you.  Also gotcha one of those handheld scanners since I figured Sam will wanna make electronic copies for his laptop.”

Dean and I stared dumbfounded as he opened the rest.  There were at least half a dozen boxes, each stuffed with books.  I examined one of the boxes and found the _Key of Solomon_ , _Necronomicon, The Golden Bough_ , _Malleus Maleficarum_ , _Bulfinch’s Mythology_ , the Egyptian _Book of the Dead_ , _De Occulta Philosophia_ , and more.  Other boxes contained bestiaries, grimoires, religious texts, copies of hunters’ journals, and other valuable resources.

“Bobby, this is unbelievable!  We’ve talked about eventually assembling our own library on the supernatural, but it would’ve taken us _years_ to get all these,” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, this is awesome!  Thanks so much, man!” Dean added.

“You’re welcome, boys.  We can put these shelves here to good use now!” the older hunter said.

Jody then pulled out a somewhat smaller box.  “This is my gift to you.  I know that most of the pictures you two have of your family and friends are small and old and would be difficult to display.  So I got a hold of as many photos as I could—most came from Bobby, some are yours that I surreptitiously scanned, and a few are from negatives Bobby confiscated from your father—”

“”Cause I didn’t trust that jackass not to lose ‘em!” Bobby interrupted.

“Anyway, I had them touched up, resized, and framed so that you can hang them or set them on tables or mantels around the house,” she continued as she passed us the box.

We opened it and looked inside.  It contained framed photographs of us with Mom when I was a baby, with Dad as we were growing up, with Bobby at various ages, and with Cas, Ellen and Jo, Missouri, Pastor Jim, and other loved ones, and of the two of us together.  Some were framed individually and some as collages, and all were of sufficient size and quality to display proudly.

I gazed at the picture of our mother hugging the first Dean, the original of which was propped up on my Dean’s nightstand, and felt my throat close up with tears.  My brother wordlessly pulled first Jody and then Bobby into a hug, his eyes wet.  I followed suit, still stunned by both presents.

After a couple of minutes, Dean wiped his eyes, cleared his throat, and said, “We’ve got gifts for you too.  Wait here a sec.”

He trotted off and returned with two wrapped jewelry boxes.  Bobby and Jody each opened one and drew out a silver pendant on a chain.  The pendant was about the size of a quarter and had an anti-possession symbol embossed on one side and an angel-banishing sigil on the other.

“Dean designed and cast the pendants.  Cas used some mojo to anchor a strong blessing into them, and we added a number of protective wards as well.  The important attribute is the shielding spell I built into it, which is similar to the one we have on the house.  Touch the pendant and say the word _scutum_ to activate, and you’ll be enveloped by a force field that’ll protect you from most physical and some supernatural attacks for a while,” I explained.

Bobby looked impressed.  “What’s powering the spell, and how long will it last?”

“It’s a variant of what I used to draw additional power when we fought Lucifer.  As long as you wear the pendant against your skin, the spell will passively draw energy from you in small increments over time.  When activated, it will pull from every living thing in a small radius, though like before not enough to cause any harm,” I replied.

“As for the duration, that will depend on how strong of a charge it’s built up and how powerful the attacker is.  So it’ll last longer against weaker opponents and less against strong ones.  We’ve tested it out against Cas and I, but not against anything as strong as an archangel.”

“This is mighty fine, kid!  You gonna make it available to other hunters?” he asked.

“Eventually, though we’re gonna ask them to pay us back for the cost of the materials,” Dean said.  “They ain’t exactly easy to make, so we’ll start with the guys we know best, like Rufus and Garth.”

Jody immediately put hers on and nudged Bobby until he did the same.  “The workmanship on this is fine enough that it can pass as regular jewelry.  This is such a lovely and thoughtful gift!”

Dean and Jody retired to the kitchen to prepare more food for tomorrow.  Bobby and I remained in the study to figure out how to shelve the lore books.  We also took turns tagging into the kitchen to wash dishes whenever the sink started to stack up. 

We eventually called it a night around eleven and went off to our respective bedrooms.  The two of us didn’t fall asleep for quite a while, however, after my lover emerged from the bathroom once again wearing the fur-trimmed panties and antlers.

***

It was a couple hours after lunch the next day when my phone rang.  Dean and Jody had risen early to continue cooking, while Bobby and I spent the morning cleaning the main living areas.  I’d just returned from a run to the liquor store and was filling the coolers on the back porch.

Crowley’s name was on the caller ID, so I clicked Answer.  “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Hello, Moose.  Fancy coming out here and letting me in?  Your defenses are . . . impressive.”

“Don’t worry about that.  We set up the wards to allow you in,” I said as I dumped ice into a cooler full of soda, the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear.

“Yes, I can see that.  However, they _won’t_ let my gift in.”

My eyebrows rose as I wondered what the hell he was bringing us.  “I’ll be there in a couple minutes then.”

I grabbed an umbrella on my way through the house and walked down the driveway.  As I reached the end, I could see Crowley standing on the sidewalk under his own umbrella.  His other hand appeared to be holding something, but I couldn’t tell what.

I stepped forward through the edge of our protections.  Before I could say anything, an excited yipping came from next to the demon’s knees.  I dropped into my inner sight and beheld a large black puppy sitting beside him, its outline hazy and its eyes glowing red.

I stumbled back in surprise.  “What the fuck, dude!  You brought us a _hellhound_ puppy?”

Crowley smirked at my discomfiture.  “Calm down, Sasquatch.  This is Hannibal, one of Juliette’s pups.  Hellhounds have an unfortunate and undeserved reputation among you mortals.  They’re really not much different than any other guard dog—they’re fiercely loyal, protective, and quite affectionate to their master and trusted associates.  And they are stronger, smarter, and more resilient than any regular dog. 

“You know I wouldn’t bring something banal like _dishes_ as a gift.  Rumor is that you like dogs, and Juliette’s current litter is old enough now to leave home.  Hannibal is the friendliest and least aggressive of his siblings—a little too much so to fit in well down below, to tell the truth.  He’s also very well-trained, so I thought he’d be perfect for you.”

I looked down at the puppy, who was watching me with a lolling tongue and wagging tail.  “I appreciate the thought, but there still are some major problems here.  The biggest is Dean’s reaction.  I don’t think he cares much for dogs in general, and he obviously has a _very_ poor history with hellhounds.  He’s _not_ going to take this well.”

Crowley sighed impatiently.  “I’m quite aware of Squirrel’s issues.  However, the hound shouldn’t be blamed for following its master’s orders—it’s that bitch Lilith who was truly responsible for your brother’s unpleasant demise.  He has nothing to fear from Hannibal, who’s a very good boy.  Isn’t he?”  He directed a fond glance at the pup, who barked happily and wagged his entire rear end furiously.

“Even if Dean agrees, there’s still the issue of Hannibal’s appearance, or lack thereof,” I pointed out.  “How are we supposed to explain an invisible dog to neighbors and visitors when they hear him barking?”

“Not a problem.  Hannibal, blend in!”

At the command, the puppy’s appearance flickered.  I switched back to normal vision, and now sitting next to Crowley appeared to be a black Great Dane-Doberman mix pup with friendly brown eyes, wearing a red leather collar attached to a matching leash.  Hannibal looked at me and gave me a doggy grin.

I crouched in front of him and extended a cautious hand.  He looked up at Crowley, who nodded, before thoroughly sniffing my fingers.  He then shoved his head under them, and I obediently began to scritch him.  He joyfully wriggled under my hands as I petted him for several minutes.

I stood and looked at the demon.  “I’m going to get Dean.  I can’t make a decision like this without him.”

Crowley nodded.  “Of course.  Make it quick though, so I can get out of this bloody dreadful weather!”

I hurried inside and first went into our bedroom to fetch a small amulet which would allow the bearer to bypass our protections, similar to the one Bobby had given Castiel.  I then headed to the kitchen and found my husband checking on the turkey and ham in the oven. 

_Hey Dee, can you take a break and come outside for a few minutes?  Crowley’s brought us a present, but . . . well, we need to decide if we want to accept it_ , I said.

_You think he’s trying to pull something shady?_

_No, he’s being honest, and I’m positive that he means well by it.  But it . . . might not be right for us._

His expression was intrigued.  “Okay, gimme a sec.  Jody, can you hold down the fort for a bit?”

She nodded, and he washed his hands and removed his apron before following me outside.  He paused in surprise at the sight of the puppy, then continued to the end of the driveway and gave Hannibal his hand to sniff.

“Hey Crowley, I’m kinda surprised to see you here so early.  And you’re giving us a dog?” Dean asked as he crouched and rubbed the pup’s ears.

“Hello, Squirrel.  I thought I’d come early to give you a chance to get to know Hannibal and let him settle in without a crush of people around,” Crowley said with a bland smile.

I watched my brother handle the puppy with some surprise.  _I thought you didn’t like dogs, Dee.  You’ve always been so adamantly against getting one._

_It ain’t that I don’t like ‘em, Sam.  They were just a luxury we couldn’t afford.  I was barely able to feed the two of us sometimes growing up, and you know Dad wouldn’t have wasted the space or resources on a pet.  And trying to use a dog for hunting always ends in fucking tragedy, and I knew it’d break your heart,_ he replied.  _But now that we’ve got a real home, I don’t see why we can’t have one._

I shifted uncomfortably.  _Um, it’s more complicated than that.  Hannibal is . . . he—he’s not a regular dog._

Dean gave me a confused look, and then his eyes widened in horror as he caught my meaning.  He tried to scramble back and ended up falling on his ass.  Hannibal whined, climbed into his lap, and tried to lick his face.

Crowley walked over next to Dean and fondled the pup’s ears.  “Yes, Hannibal is a hellhound.  But he’s no threat to either of you.  Hellhounds simply follow their master’s orders, just like pit bulls, Rottweilers, and other dogs with aggressive reputations.  I’m giving him to you because I think he’ll make you an excellent pet and guard dog, far better than any mortal canine.  My dogs mean a lot to me, and I don’t give them to just anyone.”

Dean studied the puppy in his lap, who snuffled at him and wagged his tail.  My husband then looked up at me.  _Sammy?  Whaddya think?_

_Crowley wouldn’t give us this puppy if there was any chance of him hurting us.  And you know I’ve always wanted a dog.  We_ could _get a normal one, but . . . I kind of think Hannibal might be better for us.  He wouldn’t be as vulnerable if something supernatural ever found us here.  We could even take him on some hunts if we wanted without worrying about him being an easy target for the monster,_ I said.  _But this is only if_ you _want to keep him too.  If being around a hellhound is too difficult for you—_

_No, I—I think I can handle it.  Maybe it’d be different if he was full-grown, but . . . I mean, look at him!  He’s pretty damn cute, and I can’t imagine him being too scary even in his normal form.  And hey, who’d know better that being a monster don’t mean you’re bad, right?_

I gave him a searching look.  _Are you sure about this?_

He nodded.  _Yeah.  I’d been thinking we might want to get a pet of some kind sometime soon.  And you’re right that given what our lives are like, this little sucker might be a better bet than a regular critter.  Just one thing though . . ._

He lifted his head and met Crowley’s eyes.  “Okay, I trust you that this fuzzball here won’t go after us.  But are you sure that he ain’t gonna eat the neighbor’s dog or the mailman or anything like that?”

Crowley shook his head.  “As I told Jolly Green earlier, Hannibal has been _very_ well-trained.  He won’t attack anyone except at your command.  So, does this mean that you’re keeping him?”

Dean put his arms around the puppy and stood.  “I guess we are.  But I gotta get back to the kitchen now.  Sam, can you find out what we’re gonna need for the little guy?”

“Sure thing, man.  I’ll take care of this,” I said as I took Hannibal from him.

He started to walk away, then turned back towards Crowley.  “You get that we ain’t doubting _you_ , right?  It’s just that we ain’t had good experiences before with hellhounds, so . . .”

“I understand.  No hard feelings at all.  I hope you enjoy having Hannibal around as much as I have.  Now off you go!”  Crowley waited until my brother returned to the house before looking at me.  “There’s still the issue of getting him past your metaphysical security though.”

“Right!  Actually, I’ve got something for that.”  I put the dog down, took the amulet out of my pocket, and attached it to the ring on his collar.  “That should shield him from everything until I have a chance to adjust the wards.  Let’s get out of the rain now!”

I picked up the end of the leash and led the demon and hellhound inside.  Once we’d put the umbrellas away, I asked, “What do we need to know about his care that’s different than a standard dog?”

“Let’s see.  Hannibal is far more intelligent than a regular hound.  So he’s both easier to train _and_ can get into more mischief if you’re not careful.  He’s stronger and faster, so he needs much sturdier toys.  He also needs more meat in his diet.  Don’t worry—he’s never had long pork!  I’ve fed him primarily beef mixed with higher-end dog food in preparation for living with you.  And he’s going to be a _very_ big boy—think on the largest end for Danes.”

He waved his hand, and a pile of dog supplies appeared next to him—food, toys, brushes, beds, and more.  “I’ve brought his things with me since you won’t have anything suitable yet.  I presume you have more party preparations to take care of.  When you have time later, I’ll instruct you both on the commands he currently knows and the proper way to continue to train him.”

“Thanks, Crowley!  This is going to be great!” I said enthusiastically.  “Let’s introduce him to Bobby and Jody first.”

We went into the kitchen, where food prep seemed to be happening on nearly every surface.  Dean was managing the organized chaos, while Jody followed his instructions.  Bobby was at the sink, up to his elbows in dirty pots and bowls and utensils.

The older man noticed me first.  “There you are, boy!  This shit ain’t gonna get done by itself!  Did ya get the—  Oh, it’s _you_.”

“Pleasure seeing you again as well, Bobby,” Crowley retorted.

“Both of you behave,” I ordered.  “Bobby, Jody, I’d like you to meet Hannibal.”

“Oh, isn’t he darling!” Jody cooed as she wiped her hands and hurried over.

As she reached for the pup’s head, Crowley told him, “Hannibal, friend.”

While Jody petted the puppy, whose tail was almost a blur, Bobby eyed the demon suspiciously.  “He’s _your_ present?  Okay, what’s wrong with him?”

Crowley looked offended.  “There’s nothing _wrong_ with him!  He’s from Juliette’s latest litter.”

“You’re trying to give my boys a goddamn _hellhound_?  The hell!  Where’s my damn shotgun?” Bobby burst out.

The sheriff quickly stood and put her hands on her hips.  “Robert Steven Singer, you should be ashamed of yourself!  Demon or not, Crowley has been nothing but helpful to all of us, and the boys consider him a friend.  You should know better than most that _what_ someone is isn’t as important as _who_ someone is.  Do you really think, after everything he’s done for them and they for him, that he’d intentionally give them something dangerous?  And you’re not giving Sam and Dean much credit either—they wouldn’t have let this puppy come into their home if they thought he was a threat.”

“Alright, alright!  Lemme check the damn thing out then.”  Bobby walked over to the pup and started to offer his hand, then glared over at the demon.  “Ain’t ya gonna give him the command?”

“Why?  I don’t care if he eats _you_.”  Crowley smirked.

I rolled my eyes.  “Hannibal, friend.”

Hannibal sniffed Bobby’s hand and accepted his petting for a moment, then surged forward and licked his face enthusiastically.  He laughed.  “Okay, I get your point.  Not exactly a killer, are ya?”

Dean banged a spoon against one of the pots in the sink.  “Alright folks, Hallmark moment’s over!  We still got a lotta shit to do before everyone shows up, so back to work!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no smut in this chapter, but plenty of family and PUPPY! 'Cause you know Sam and Dean couldn't get a normal dog, any more than they could get a normal house . . . ;P
> 
> We're hosting a Halloween party on Friday and going to a small convention on Saturday, so next week's update will be posted on Thursday. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy writer!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys host their housewarming party, and a certain party-crasher shows up again . . .

We managed to get everything finished and cleaned up about half an hour before people were due to arrive.  The main course was sitting on the dining table in covered chafing dishes, the desserts were arranged on the sideboard, and appetizers and snacks were out on the breakfast bar.  Three coolers, one each for soda, beer, and other alcoholic beverages, rested in front of the French doors.  We’d all washed up and changed and were now relaxing in the family room.  Dean was once again wearing his antlers and had stuffed a Santa’s hat on top of my head.

Castiel was the first guest to show up, popping into the doorway between the foyer and family room with his customary soft rustle of feathers.  He looked around for a moment, taking in the lit tree and decorations, the cozy gas fireplace, and holiday music playing from the stereo, before focusing on the two of us.

“Hello, Sam, Dean.  I hope I am not too early.”

We’d both stood when he appeared, and Dean stepped forward to hug him first.  “Nah, you’re fine, Cas.  _That_ award goes to Crowley, who came here a coupla hours ago.”

“There were extenuating circumstances though,” I added after hugging him myself.

“I know that you said that a gift was not required, but it is customary to bring something for a housewarming gathering,” Cas said earnestly.  “I had noted previously that there are few healthy plants remaining in your gardens after the years of neglect.  So I have brought cuttings and seedlings from the Garden for your yard—with Joshua’s permission, of course.  Many of the plants have curative or protective properties.  I put them in the back of your garage for now, and I can assist with planting them later.”

“Wow, that’s awesome, dude!  We ain’t thought much ‘bout the yard yet.  But ain’t it a little early in the season to plant anything?” my brother asked.  “I mean, it ain’t freezing or anything, but it ain’t _warm_.”

The angel shook his head.  “These plants are hardier than their mundane counterparts and can withstand much worse conditions than you experience here.”

“Okay then.  We can plant them in a day or two, whenever this rain lets up,” I said.  “For now, grab a drink, take a seat, and relax!”

Cas started towards the sofa, then paused and stared nonplussed at Hannibal, who was curled up on an enormous dog bed in front of the fireplace, happily gnawing on what Dean was convinced was a dinosaur bone.  “Dean, Sam, I do not mean to alarm you, but you seem to have a juvenile hellhound in your house.”

Dean moved over to the hearth and scratched behind the dog’s ears.  “Yeah, meet Hannibal.  He’s ours now.”

“A housewarming cum wedding gift courtesy of yours truly,” Crowley announced as he emerged from the kitchen with a glass of Scotch.  “Don’t bother saying anything.  We’ve already been through the ‘blah, blah, they’re too dangerous’ bit with the old fool over there.”

“Get stuffed, asshole,” Bobby replied pleasantly from the love seat.

I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the coolers.  “The two of you are going to end up either killing each other or making out—you know that, right?”

“Bite your tongue, boy!” Bobby barked, while Jody burst out laughing beside him.

“Afraid I’m too much man for you, are we?” the demon asked snidely.

Before Bobby could erupt, the doorbell rang.  My brother remarked as he hurried to the door, “Saved by the bell!”

He soon returned with Garth in tow, exclaiming, “Look what the cat dragged in!”

Garth beamed at all of us.  “Hi there, Sam, Bobby, Miss Jody.  And of course Cas and Mr. Crowley.  I’m glad I’m not the first one here!  I always feel awkward when that happens, like everyone’s staring at me.”

“Glad you could make it, man.  Welcome to our new house.”  I stepped forward to shake his hand and got pulled into a hug instead.

“I gotta say, I’m really impressed with how this place looks,” Garth said after he let go.  “I would’ve thought it would’ve been totally trashed after hosting a poltergeist for nearly a decade.  But you guys got it looking _fine_ after only a month!”

“Closer to five weeks, and it’s only this floor so far.  We still gotta put down paint and varnish upstairs and redo that bathroom.  And we ain’t touched the basement yet—we wanna put in a panic room and vault like Bobby’s, a workshop, and maybe a practice room for sparring.

“We also got lucky that the house was in way better shape than it shoulda been in.  Old man Warner built it pretty sturdy, and we think his spirit protected it from the worst of the damage after he passed.  Most of what we found was pretty superficial,” Dean explained.

“And we had a lot of help too.  Bobby, Jody, and Cas all pitched in, and we wouldn’t have finished in time without them,” I added. 

“Well, I brought you something.  It ain’t much, but I hope you like it.  My gran used to hang all these different charms in front of her windows and doors to keep the evil spirits out.  Nothing bad ever did come to her house, but that mighta been ‘cause even ghosts weren’t dumb enough to mess with my gran.  So I dunno if these work or not, but at least they’re pretty.  I got one for each door,” the skinny hunter said.

He handed me a brightly wrapped box.  Inside were three wind chimes, each of which were composed of an elaborately enameled hamsa, from which hung small brass prayer bells, which in turn had cobalt glass nazars hanging from their clappers.

“Dude, these are gorgeous!  Dean, come take a look!”  I held one out to my husband.

He carefully took it and tapped one of the bells to hear it chime.  “This is a pretty awesome gift, Garth!  We’re gonna hang these babies up tomorrow for sure.”

Not long after that, a rush of people showed up in fairly quick succession.  First was Collin, his wife Anne, and Myra, and they gave us several framed art prints inspired by some of Dean’s and my favorite movies.  Then Rufus came, bearing a warded gun safe and a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label.  Next were Mark, Raul, Karen, and her husband Frank, who’d all come together in Frank’s SUV.  Dean’s co-workers, including Collin and Myra, had all chipped in together to get us a self-propelled lawnmower.  Last to arrive were several of our neighbors—Miranda and Alice, the retired couple who lived to our right, Mike, a single dad who was our other next-door neighbor, and Dineth and Presha, a young couple from further up the street.  They brought a lovely dichroic vase, a couple bottles of wine, and a Cuisinart, respectively.

Once we’d greeted everyone and made sure they were set up with drinks and snacks, we pulled Bobby and Jody aside.  Dean then asked, “Are we waiting on anyone else?  ‘Cause I’d like to serve dinner soon.  I know that Missouri had family obligations and couldn’t make it.”

“Same with Melissa.  She and her dad headed up north to spend the holiday with her brother,” Bobby added.

“Dr. Visyak told me she was coming but would be a little late, so I don’t think we need to wait on her,” I said.

Bobby suddenly looked a bit consternated.  “Damn, you invited Ellie?  Don’t get me wrong—she’s a fine woman.  But she and I have some . . . history, and she don’t exactly remember me kindly.  Might be a bit awkward, especially her seeing me with Jody.”

“Well, there won’t be a problem on _my_ end.  She’s been willing to help Sam out, which makes her okay in my book,” Jody said firmly.

“I’m with Jody on this one, old man.  If you gotta eat a little crow to keep the peace, then suck it up.”  My brother turned to me.  “I’m gonna check the chafing dishes to make sure everything’s still good.  I figure we can announce the food is ready in another fifteen or twenty.  Sound good?”

“Yeah, that works.  While you’re checking the food, I’ll take the folks who haven’t been here before on the nickel tour of the house.  By the time that’s done, it should be time to eat,” I responded.

I led Garth, Rufus, Dean’s co-workers, and our neighbors through the house, starting first with the main floor and then the unfinished second story and basement, making sure to give an appropriate spin to our plans for those spaces for the civilians.  When asked about the newness of the furniture and lack of many personal touches, I explained that with how frequently we previously had to move for work, it was simpler to rent furnished apartments or use extended-stay hotels.  Everyone seemed impressed with our home, particularly considering how much we’d accomplished in such a short time.

As we were walking back to the dining room, Collin told me, “Man, I can’t believe this is the same place, ‘specially considering its rep.  When we first heard you were buying the Warner House, there was an over-under ‘bout how long you’d last.  Everyone in Veneta has heard the stories, and no one’s managed to do anything here since Tony passed.  Not saying that I believe in ghosts and shit like that, but the stories outta here weren’t just from kids and vagrants, ya know?”

“I don’t know how the stories about this house got started, but things like that are sometimes a self-fulfilling prophesy.  People come in expecting something bad or unusual to happen, so they’re more likely to overreact to even small incidents.  And then the stories get overblown with each retelling.  There are classes at the university on the whole psychology of folklore,” I said with a straight face. 

“Well, you’d know best, Professor!  Still, this place looks damn good.”

I thanked him as we entered the dining room.  Inside, the chafing dishes were uncovered and steaming, the aromas of the food wafting through the air.  The spread included turkey with gravy, ham with a pineapple glaze, sausage stuffing with cranberries, onions, peas, and carrots, herbed corn, green bean casserole, scalloped potatoes, baby carrots in a dill sauce, and penne alla vodka.  Holiday-themed paper plates, napkins, and utensils sat at one end of the table.

Dean looked up from setting out serving spoons and forks in front of each chafing dish.  “You guys are just in time.  Food is ready, so grab a plate!”

Everyone hurried to line up in front of the dining table.  I withdrew, figuring I’d let the guests serve themselves first before getting my own food.  I eventually filled a plate and took a seat at the breakfast bar beside Miranda and her wife.

“This food is fantastic,” Miranda gushed.  “Where did you get it catered from?”

“We didn’t, ma’am.  Dean cooked everything, including the desserts, with help from Jody,” I replied.

Alice asked, “Do you cook too?”

“Oh no, I’m not allowed to make anything more complicated than a sandwich,” I said.  “Dean is convinced I’ll set either myself or the kitchen on fire.  I think he’d prefer the first out of the two—this kitchen is his new baby, right after the Impala.”

“I understand he also fixed up those gorgeous muscle cars you both drive.  Is there anything your husband _can’t_ do with his hands?” Miranda had a naughty gleam in her eye as she spoke.

“Don’t ask him to draw.  But other than that, not much,” I said with a grin.

The doorbell rang again, and I quickly excused myself to let Eleanor Visyak in.  Her gift was primers on translating several obscure ancient dialects to add to our growing lore collection.  There was some awkwardness when she first ran into Bobby, but soon she and Jody were deep in conversation.  From the older hunter’s put-upon expression, I deduced that they were comparing notes about him.

Once I finished eating, I sought out my brother.  He was looking particularly fetching tonight.  The dark green Henley top he was wearing brought out the color of his long-lashed eyes and the shine of his dark gold hair, and his fitted jeans hugged his curved ass and strong thighs.  Those wide eyes were sparkling and his full lips smiling in enjoyment at the gathering.  And each time the bells on those damn antlers chimed, I flashed back to heated images from the day before.

I pulled him into the butler’s pantry and kissed him hard.  _Those antlers have been driving me nuts all evening, Dee,_ I growled as I captured his lips again.

_You’re gonna hafta keep it under control for a while longer, little brother.  ‘Cause I_ ain’t _risking one of the guys from work or the nice next-door ladies catching me here with my dick out!_ he said breathlessly when I came up for air.

I leaned my forehead against his.  _I know, I know.  At least the party is a hit—everyone loves the house and the food.  And Hannibal has spent most of the time on his back, getting belly rubs!_

_We better get back then, before the damn puppy convinces everyone to give him their turkey!_

***

By a couple of hours later, most people were done eating.  Except for Garth, who I was convinced must have a tapeworm (Dean leaned more towards alien symbiont and was already calling it Dax).  Everyone was relaxed, having a drink, engaging in conversation.  Some had cleared off one end of the dining table and were playing a board game Mike had brought with him.  Others were watching and laughing as Mark and Frank attempted to teach Hannibal to play dead.

Castiel came over to me, looking concerned.  “Sam, my brother is outside your fence and requests admittance.”

“It’s okay, Cas.  We were kind of expecting this to happen.”  I patted his shoulder reassuringly.  “Let me go get Dean.”

I found my brother in the kitchen, rinsing some glasses.  He took in our expressions and asked, “What’s up?”

“Our favorite party-crasher is outside.  Cas and I are going to talk to him.  You want to join us?”

“Nah, I’m trying to clean up in here.  I wanna get the food outta the chafing dishes before shit dries out and pack ‘em in Tupperwares.  I’ll leave the containers out in case Garth and Dax ain’t done grazing,” he said.  “I trust you to keep your cool out there and not nut our tricksy friend too badly if he decides to act like an asshat.  And I trust Cas to back your play however it goes.”

I nodded, and the angel and I went outside and down the driveway.  Sure enough, Gabriel was standing nonchalantly in front of our fence, the stick of a lollipop hanging from his lips.  As soon as we reached the sidewalk, he removed the Tootsie Pop from his mouth with a grin.

“Hey, Sam the man, how’s it hanging?  Did ya like the ornament I left here a few days ago?  Spitting image of my little bro here, ain’t it?”

Castiel give his best version of what my brother called my “bitch-face.”  “Yes, Gabriel, the tree topper was _very_ humorous.”

I gave the archangel an unamused stare.  “What do you want?  I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

Gabriel assumed an injured expression.  “Hey, I thought we were buds and all after the wedding!”

I glared at him.  “We weren’t going to let _anyone_ ruin our big day, dumbass, including you.  So we played nice instead of arguing over which testicle of yours we were going to rip off first.  It didn’t mean you were forgiven by _any_ means.

“Yes, you did help us against Lucifer by getting us out of that hotel and giving us the message about the keys.  But _then_ you ran and hid again.  We could’ve used an archangel on our side, on _humanity’s_ side, for the big showdown, but you chose to take the coward’s way out and stuck your fucking head back in the sand.  And you’re _still_ hiding!  It isn’t all hymns and roses up in Heaven right now, you know.  Cas says there’s a faction, led by Raphael, that wants to start the damn Apocalypse all over again so they can remake _our_ planet the way _they_ want.  Michael is currently keeping them down, but you helping him out could make a _huge_ difference.  Instead, you’re still running around down here, teaching petty lessons to minor-league assholes and banging illusionary babes.

“And on a more personal note—yes, the honeymoon you sent us on was phenomenal.  But that’s not enough to make up for what you did to _us_ before, not by a long shot.  I don’t care about the petty annoyances of our first encounter, or those embarrassing fake TV shows and commercials.  But if you think I’m _ever_ going to forgive you for killing my brother in front of me over a hundred times, and for forcing me to live without him for those six months, then you’re seriously goddamn delusional!”

For the first time in my experience, Gabriel completely dropped the humor, snark, and innuendo and looked at me seriously.  “Listen, Sam, I know I fucked up badly before, maybe irredeemably.  I had all these excuses in my head ‘bout why I didn’t do more against Lucifer.  Like how I still didn’t wanna help one of my brothers kill the other, even though I _knew_ that wasn’t what you were planning to do.  Or that you had everything under control without me, and that I’d step in if you guys got in trouble. 

“Truth is, you’re right—I _was_ afraid.  Afraid of giving up the life I’ve built here, afraid of committing myself too much, afraid of _really_ going against either of my elder brothers.  I’m glad it worked out in the end, but I _am_ sorry that I didn’t do more.

“But the reasons that I left Heaven in the first place still hold for why I haven’t returned.  I _refuse_ to help my brothers fight one another, and it doesn’t matter if it’s Michael versus Raphael now instead of Michael versus Lucifer.  And I don’t want to get sucked back into the politics and worse, the regimented order.  D’ya know how _long_ it took me to break outta that programming and become my own man?  No way I’m ever going back to being a drone!”

“You’re just coming up with more excuses, you fucking chickenshit, and you know it!” I said disgustedly.  “The situation is _very_ different than before.  Neither Michael nor Raphael is trying to hurt one another.  From what Cas has gathered, Raphael won’t make a move unless he thinks he can overpower Michael’s side.  If you join up with Michael, that will be _two_ archangels opposing him, which might make Raphael and his supporters rethink their position.  If you _really_ want to make sure none of your brothers need to kill each other, and if you’re _really_ on humanity’s side, then you need to do everything you can to prevent Raphael from getting enough power to free Lucifer and start this whole mess again.

“As for your other concern, Cas here is proof that Heaven is a different place now.  He stood up for himself and rebelled against his orders, and he _was_ cast out for a time.  But he’s been accepted back with open arms, and no one’s tried to make him toe the company line again.  In fact, he’s gotten more respect and clout for bucking the status quo, and he’s been trying to use that to change Heaven for the better.  He wants to convince the angels to go back to being guardians instead of merely aloof observers, and he could really use help with that.”

The archangel beamed at Cas.  “Really, Cassie?  Way to go, little brother!”

“Do _not_ call me Cassie—it is Castiel or Cas.  Or I shall start calling you Gaby, _and_ I will tell Dean to start using it too,” the seraph snapped.  “You still have not addressed what you did to Sam and Dean.”

“Wow, you really _have_ grown a pair, Cas!” Gabriel said admiringly, then turned a sober face toward me.  “Ain’t gonna lie—I was an _enormous_ douchebag to you both.  I got so caught up in proving you wrong that I didn’t stop to realize I was worse than the problem.  So I won’t blame ya if you tell me to go to fuck myself.

“But I wanna make this right—if for nothing else, ‘cause you guys always treated me decently, even when you were mad as hell at me.  No sucking up or kowtowing when you found out who I really was, no trying to force me to pick one brother over the other, no hidden agendas.  Just be a better man and save the world.  You two are pretty damn impressive, and . . . and I’d like to be worthy of your respect someday.”

“Would you be willing to give Gabriel another opportunity, Sam?  I understand that he has done you much wrong, and simple contrition is not sufficient.  But is forgiveness not one of the foundations of your bond with Dean?  Your relationship is stronger now than ever in part because you have absolved each other of the mistakes and misunderstandings of the past.”  Cas gazed at me sincerely. 

“And were you not willing to pardon my own grievous errors, in particular my refusal to defy commands I knew were wrong until it was almost too late?  If I had developed a spine and told Zachariah to stuff it, as you and Dean would put it, earlier, Dean might have been able to warn you in time about the final Seal.  But you have never held my weakness against me.”

_“_ It’s not the same situation, buddy.  You overcame your intrinsic nature, which probably took this guy _centuries_ to do, in just a couple of months.  You didn’t know about your superiors’ deceptions, and you came to us as soon as you _did_ find out.  We’ve never been anything but _proud_ of you for that,” I told him.

I sighed and looked at Gabriel again.  “Alright, I’ll give you a chance.  You _have_ been trying to make up for your mistakes and not be a total douche.  More importantly, Cas is asking for this.  You’re his family, and he’s _our_ family.  And family is _everything_ to us.”

I then stepped right up to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and loomed over him.  “Make sure you get this straight though, Gabriel.  You’re on probation right now with us.  You try to pull _any_ of your Trickster crap on us again, or do _anything_ to cause my brother or anyone else we care about distress, and I _will_ fry you in holy oil and serve you as a bucket of extra-crispy angel wings with a side of coleslaw. 

“You may have all the power and strength of an archangel at your command, but you don’t scare us.  Dean and I put the Morningstar down after practicing with our abilities for only a few weeks.  We’ve now had _months_ to hone those same talents, and you’re on _our_ home turf, with all the defenses and contingencies we’ve built into this place.  Not to mention the firepower and skills of the people we have at our backs.  After what we’ve been through, taking _you_ down won’t make us break a sweat.  We clear?”

“Yessir!  You can be one _scary_ dude, Sam Winchester.”  Gabriel tried to smile up at me placatingly.

I released his shirt and handed him a small amulet.  “This will let you bypass the anti-angel protections on this place.  It’s currently active for only twenty-four hours, and I can reactivate it whenever you visit.  You earn our trust, and maybe you’ll get permanent free access like Cas has.  Now follow me.”

Once inside, I steered him straight to the kitchen, knowing that Dean also had words to say to him.  The chafing dishes had been cleaned and were stacked up on the counter.  Plastic containers of food sat on the island counter in case anyone wanted more.  Dean was wiping down the rest of the countertop as we approached.

He put the towel down and eyed Gabriel skeptically.  “You ain’t walking funny, so I guess Sam didn’t literally rip you a new one.  I’m sure he’s already said plenty, so I’ll keep this quick. 

“I don’t care ‘bout what you did to us at Springfield or Wellington—you were a dick, but we get worse from the monsters trying to kill us all the time.  And I ain’t upset for myself over what went down at Broward, ‘cause I don’t remember the shit you did to me.  What matters a whole _hell_ of a lot is that you put Sammy through a fuck-ton of pain.  _No one_ hurts my baby brother and gets away with it.  Track down a coupla dumbasses named Walt and Roy to find out _exactly_ how serious I am ‘bout that.

“But since he ain’t a little kid that needs me to beat up bullies for him anymore, I’m following his lead on this.  If he wants to cut out your heart with a spoon, then I’m gonna find him the dullest, rustiest fucking utensil I can.  Since you’re _here_ , he’s obviously letting you try to prove you’re more than a winged asshat with a douchey sense of humor. 

“But if you _ever_ try that kinda shit again on us or our loved ones, or if we find out you’re still killing people to ‘teach them a lesson,’ then I’m gonna hunt you down.  But I _ain’t_ gonna kill ya.  I’m gonna turn you into angel jerky, feed you to my dog, and then watch you try to reconstitute yourself from hellhound shit.  I’m gonna keep repeating that, maybe try out different flavors to see what Hannibal likes best, until I’m _absolutely_ sure that you got the message.  And remember this—I don’t age, and I don’t die easy, so I can keep that up for a _long_ goddamn time.  We green?”  He ended with a nasty, sharp-toothed smirk.

“Super green,” the archangel responded faintly.

Dean continued, “As for how you’ve been dropping the ball, you ever heard, ‘With great power comes great responsibility?’  You’ve got all this phenomenal cosmic power that you’re doing jack-shit with.  I don’t give a fuck ‘bout your family drama, or if it’s easier to be the Trickster than do your duty in Heaven.  You think _we_ haven’t had family issues—hello, have you _met_ us?  And d’ya think that we _wanted_ to be itinerant vagrants, living in shitty motels on crappy food, getting our asses kicked on a regular basis by the monster of the week?  We coulda been living high offa hustling big rollers in Vegas or pulling lucrative cons.  But we got knowledge and skills that no one else has, so we do what needs to be done so that more people don’t die.

“So pull your head outta your goddamn ass, sack up, and fulfill your damn obligations!  And if you keep acting like a whiny bitch, I’m gonna sic _them_ on you.  They may not look intimidating, but that’s a _hell_ of a lotta mom voice in one spot—more than any one dude is capable of surviving.”  He pointed over to the sofa, where Jody was sitting with Anne, Karen, Alice, and Presha and going through our wedding album.

“Dean is not joking.  Two of those ladies, Miss Karen and Miss Anne, cornered me earlier and made me comb my hair.  They are far more formidable than they appear,” Cas said seriously.

Gabriel threw his hands up.  “Alright, alright, I get it!  I’ll go back with Castiel and see if I can’t help Heaven get its ass back on track.  But I’ll be back, ‘cause all work and no play makes Gabe a dull boy.

“On a less threat-filled note, I did bring you a housewarming gift.  Here!”  He handed me a plain envelope.

With my husband looking over my shoulder, I opened it and took out several sheets of paper, which turned out to be statements from our various credit cards.  Dean’s savings had paid for the majority of the renovations we’d completed, but for the remainder and for the furnishings, electronics, kitchen gear, and other things we’d bought for the house, we had to use the credit cards Frank had provided for the Smith-Wessons and open up a couple of store cards at places with low- or no-interest plans.  This worried me some, as we couldn’t afford to default on these payments.  Dean was less concerned, as he figured a couple good hustles the next time we went on a hunt would cover us until he was bringing in a full-time paycheck and I started my job as a teaching assistant.

The statements I was holding were dated yesterday and showed that all the balances had been paid in full within the last week.  The last sheet was a statement for our checking account, which listed a five-figure deposit made also in the previous week.

Before either of us could break our stunned silences, Gabriel said airily, “You don’t hafta say anything.  It’s just money.  With being around here for so long, I’ve got boatloads of the stuff, sometimes literally!  I thought this would give you a clean start after all the work you’ve put in here, plus a little extra to cover the remainder of the renovations and line your nest.”

“A _little_?” I spluttered.  “Dude, you just gave us twenty grand, on top of what you put out to pay off our debts!”

“And you saved the entire freaking world and got a whole lotta bupkis for it!” he rejoined.  “Don’t worry—this is purely a gift.  You don’t owe me any favors or shit like that.  If that sticks in your craw, consider it back pay for everything you’ve done gratis over the years.”

“Man, this is way beyond what we were expecting,” Dean said.  “And right after we reamed you out . . .”

“Which I richly deserved!  Like I said, don’t worry ‘bout it!  Why don’t you show me around the house?  And show me where the desserts are!”

I led Gabriel on a tour of the house, while Dean took Mike, Frank, Miranda, and Garth to the garages to check out the Impala and GTO.  Once everyone had reassembled in the family room, we began to exchange our favorite haunted house stories (natural given the history of our home).  The hunters in the group didn’t let on that the tales we told were of actual cases we or someone we knew had worked.  Eventually Crowley murmured something to my brother, and they retired to the kitchen.

Dean returned with a tray of small glasses.  After each person had taken a glass, Crowley went around and filled them with the rum we had given him from our honeymoon.  He then stood in front of the fireplace and held up his glass.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to propose a toast.  The bottle I poured from is aged Jamaican rum which Sam and Dean bought on their honeymoon and gave to me.  My line of work doesn’t normally allow the luxury of friendship.  That the boys were willing to ignore our . . . differences and befriend me means a lot to me.

“Sam and Dean have done a great deal in service to this country and beyond and have sacrificed much as well.  Therefore, it pleases those of us who’ve known them a while that they now get to enjoy what most people take for granted—steady jobs, a house, a dog, the whole bloody American dream.  I can’t think of many who deserve it more.  So raise your glasses to the Smith-Wessons and a long, peaceful, happy life in their new home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finish up the boys' holiday with their housewarming party. As I mentioned in a comment in the last chapter, I wanted to avoid "traditional" gifts from the people who really know Sam and Dean and instead tried to come up with things that had meaning to both the giver and recipient. Hope you like these as much as the ones from the previous chapter (okay, maybe not as much as Hannibal!).
> 
> I had a LOT of fun coming up with the creative threats the boys threw at Gabriel. And don't scoff at Dean's last one! We have a friend who has what we refer to as her "mommy-face," and grown men quake in fear when she breaks that out.
> 
> But the reason why the boys are still so pissed at him is why Sabriel totally doesn't work for me. I'm not a giddy girl, so "Oh, they're so cute together" isn't enough--a ship has to make sense based on the characters' personalities and history with each other. So I can't imagine Sam feeling anything but rage towards the dick who made him watch his brother die 100+ times AND then live without him for another 6 months. How long it takes our boys to forgive him in this story is still up in the air.
> 
> Next week's update should go up Friday evening as normal. The following week a friend and I are going to the SPN convention in Washington DC from Thursday night to Sunday night, so I'm not sure if that week's update will go up on Wednesday or Sunday (if it's not too late when I get home to NJ). In the meantime, constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos are like Scooby snacks for writers! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys look for their first case since settling down, and one finds them . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some minor homophobic language (though the person gets the stupid knocked out of them pretty quickly).

The party ran fairly late, and by the time we finished cleaning up, we were too tired to do anything but fall into bed.  Bobby and Jody of course stayed with us, as was Garth.  Rufus elected to get a room at the motel in town, as he had to make an early morning start to get to a possible banshee hunt in eastern Montana.  Castiel, Gabriel, and Crowley teleported away, but each promised to return within the next day or two.

After Dean made everyone a shit-ton of eggs, bacon, and French toast for breakfast, we spent the next day planting Cas’ seedlings throughout the yard, installing Garth’s wind chimes on each porch, hanging Collin’s prints through the house, and finding homes for the other gifts as well.  We also took Hannibal out for a run around the neighborhood and carefully introduced him to more of the people and pets in the area.

Most of the rest of the week was spent working on the upper floor and basement, in particular taking advantage of Bobby’s presence to construct as much of the vault and panic room as we could.  There wasn’t the feverish rush of before though, so plenty of time was spent relaxing, showing our guests around Veneta and Eugene, and doing some shopping. 

We decided to invest half of the windfall from Gabriel as a nest egg and reserve most of the remainder for finishing the work around the house.  That still left us with a nice amount to splurge with.  I was surprised when Dean spent the majority of his share on small kitchen appliances and specialty utensils and only a relatively small amount on movies and music.  Mine went into the study—a brass reading lamp, leather blotters, and wood organizer for the desk, a small wooden step stool, and of course _lots_ of books.

We spent New Year’s Eve at a local bar, drinking, playing pool and darts, and making out unabashedly when the ball dropped.  Bobby and Jody drove off the next day, heading home to Sioux Falls.  Dean was due to start working full-time that Monday.  The winter term at the university was beginning on the same day, which meant my classes and my teaching assistant position would begin as well.  I was enrolled in two folklore courses, _Folklore and the Supernatural_ and _History and Theory of Folklore Research_ , and one anthropology course, _Approaches to the Symbolic_.  My TA position was for the _Introduction to Folklore_ class.

The day after Bobby and Jody left, we were sitting in the family room, having just finished discussing options for the bonus room.  The final coat of varnish was curing upstairs, and we knew we wanted to turn the room into a media and game room.  What we were still deciding was what exactly was going in there, since there were many options to choose from.

Dean suddenly turned to me, his face serious.  “We got most of the major projects done around here, not counting the shit outside where we hafta wait for spring.  There’s still stuff to finish in the basement and upstairs bathroom, but that ain’t urgent.  But we ain’t done any real work, _our_ kinda work, since we got to Bobby’s place after the honeymoon.”

“Do you want to start looking for cases then?”

“Yeah.  See if we can find something kinda local.  We talked ‘bout balancing hunting with the life we’re building, but we hafta test it.  Now might be the best time, before you get loaded down with tests and papers,” he pointed out.

“You’re probably right.  We can starting checking out the news articles, and drop a line to Bobby once he’s home to see if he knows of anything around here,” I said.

 _You sure you’re okay with this, Sammy?_ he asked, looked concerned. _I know you’ve really been digging what we got here, and you’ve never been as into hunting as me._

I laid a reassuring arm over his shoulder.  _I’m okay, Dee, really.  I’ve been feeling different about the family business lately, I think.  It’s no longer something we_ have _to do, something we’ve been forced into because of revenge or one of us dying or some big destiny.  It’s back to being about helping and saving people again.  And that . . . that feels good._

My brother grinned at me delightedly.  _That’s awesome, baby boy!  I do miss how it was when we first started hunting together too, when we could enjoy what we were doing and have some fun.  Now we just hafta find a good case!_

We kept our eyes open after that, but didn’t find anything appropriate right away.  The couple of prospects we did turn up either were too far to manage in a weekend or turned out to be not “our kind of thing” after some digging.  Aside from that though, everything was going well.  We went to work, continued to fix up our home, played with our dog, and enjoyed our time with each other.

Near the end of the first week in January, we were cleaning up after dinner when the doorbell rang, followed by Hannibal’s excited barking.  I was in the middle of loading the dishwasher, so Dean answered the door.  To my surprise, he led Edith into the family room.  Even more unexpectedly, Don followed after them, looking more disgruntled than usual.  The pup brought up the rear, tongue lolling happily.  I quickly rinsed and loaded the last of the dishes, dried my hands, and joined them.

“I know you said to feel free to visit when you gave me your new address.  I hope you don’t mind us showing up like this with no warning,” she was saying as I walked in.

I sat beside my husband on the love seat and replied warmly, “It’s a pleasure having you here—both of you!  We haven’t seen each other since the resort, and emails and phone calls aren’t the same.”

“Your house is lovely!  It’s quite amazing how much you’ve accomplished since you told me you bought this place,” she said, looking around the room from the armchair.

“Can we cut the bloody chitchat and get on with it!” Don burst out.  He was standing beside her chair, acting as if he were guarding her from us.

“Don, try to behave yourself!” Edith scolded.  She glanced at us ruefully.  “I _had_ been meaning to visit sometime soon, once things quieted down after the holidays.  But there is more to us coming right now than a social call, I’m afraid.  We need your help in a . . . _professional_ capacity.”

Dean straightened up from patting Hannibal, who was now draped across our feet.  “You got a case for us?”

She nodded.  “There’s a nest of rogue vampires operating on the outskirts of Portland.  You haven’t heard anything yet in the news because they’ve been surprisingly smart about their kills so far—they’ve only been targeting the homeless and runaways and being very careful with disposing of the bodies.  We—our nest—only know of them because of Justin.

“Justin is a member of our nest and normally is a sweet man.  But he lost his mate a couple of months ago.  Just a tragic accident—their apartment building caught fire, and she was one of the handful who didn’t make it out.  We mate for life, and losing her . . . it drove him more than a little mad.  The rest of us tried out best to comfort him, but it wasn’t enough.  He left, saying he needed to start over somewhere that didn’t remind him constantly of her.

“He moved to Portland but still kept in touch with some of us.  The things that he told us about the new nest he’d fallen into . . . we grew worried.  So a couple members of our nest went to visit Justin, and our worst fears were confirmed.  The leaders of that nest openly admitted to their kills, and from their talk, it’s only a matter of time before they escalate.  When our friends tried to protest and to convince Justin to come back with them, the rogues roughed them up pretty severely before telling them to leave Portland or else.”

“So you want us to go in, pull this Justin dude out, and gank the rest of those sonsofbitches.  Why us though?  Why not take care of this your own damn selves?” Dean asked a little suspiciously.

“Believe me, we would if we bloody could, rather than trust you fucking wankers,” Don snarled.  “Problem is, most of our mates ain’t got much in the way of fighting skills, while _that_ lot is almost entirely made up of sodding thugs and brutes.  I can hold my own pretty well, but I ain’t leading my family into a goddamn slaughter!”

“And we _can’t_ afford for word to get out to other nests or the community,” the female vampire added.  “You see, the rogues told our people that while they’re tired of living off of bums, they _aren’t_ planning on attacking other humans—they know that will bring hunters down on them.  No, they want to capture and feed off of a werewolf or shifter or the like.  There’s an old wives’ tale that if you drink the blood of another supernatural creature, you can gain a portion of their abilities for a time.  These idiots apparently want to test if that’s more than an urban legend.

“The community as a whole normally doesn’t get involved with rogues, other than to throw a few clues towards the nearest hunters and let you mop up the problem.  But one of the cardinal rules throughout the entire community is to _never_ attack other members.  If the community discovers what these morons are planning to do . . .”

“They’ll destroy the whole nest with prejudice, Justin included,” I finished grimly.  “And you can’t let some random hunter find out either, in case they’re more like Gordon Walker than us.”

“That about sums it up.  We can’t let that other nest keep hurting people and causing trouble, but we also can’t give up on Justin.  So I told my nest about the two of you, and that I trusted you to handle this situation right.  Don wasn’t happy that I’d been keeping secrets from him.  He doesn’t particularly care for hunters either.”  She sighed heavily. 

“I know this is asking quite a lot of you.  But it would mean so much to us, and would probably go a long way towards earning trust and goodwill in the community.  And we _can_ pay you, as well.”

My brother and I exchanged startled glances.  We were rarely offered any kind of reward for doing our jobs, which is why we’d lived off of credit card fraud and hustling pool for so long.  The idea of getting paid for this felt . . . awkward.

“That’s not necessary—it’s not why we do this,” I responded uncomfortably.  “And you have to realize that if we take this particular case, we can’t guarantee we can bring Justin out safely.  We’d try our best, of course, but . . .”

“We do.  Your best try is still a far better chance for him than anything else.  And I insist that we at least compensate you for any expenses you incur,” Edith said firmly.

“We can deal with that later.  What we need right now is information,” Dean stated briskly.  “As many details as you can give us—where this nest is, how many people are in it, names, all that shit.  Then me and Sam can look up as much as we can online and make some phone calls before heading to Portland.”

“I have the address and the few names we know written down.  It’s a fairly large nest—close to two dozen vampires.  And as Don said, most seem to be formidable fighters.”

“Sonofabitch!  That’s a _lotta_ fucking vamps!”  Dean glanced over at me.  “We’re gonna need reinforcements.”

“We’ll have to call Bobby and Garth to see if either of them can help,” I said.

“Great, _more_ bloody hunters!” Don groused.  “Are you _trying_ to get poor Justin killed?”

“Listen, dumbass, not all of us are knuckle-dragging murderers,” I snapped.  “Bobby and Garth know what _we_ are and accept us, and neither is the type to kill someone just because they’re not human.  So shove it!”

“Yeah, whatever, Bigfoot.  And by the way, _I’ll_ be coming with you to take these blighters down,” Don said.

Dean exclaimed, “Hell no, you’re not!”

“Hell yes, I am, you fucking fairy!  Without one of us there to keep you honest, we won’t know if you didn’t bring our boy back ‘cause you really couldn’t or ‘cause you decided it was easier to cut his blooming head off!” the vampire retorted.  “I’m pretty handy in a fight myself, so don’t think you can gaffle _me_ easy.  Used to be a bobby in the East End before I was turned, and I’ve made sure to keep my hand in.”

“You better believe we’re gonna test that.  ‘Cause bluster all you like, but we _ain’t_ letting you tag along if you’re gonna be a liability.”  My husband gave him a hard stare.  “And catch up to the fucking twenty-first century, douchebag!  If you think liking cock as much as pussy makes me any less capable of kicking your undead ass, you’re a goddamn moron.”

Don opened his mouth but got glared down by his mate, who ordered, “That’s _quite_ enough, Don!  I don’t care if your masculinity is threatened by two men loving each other, nor am I impressed by you trying to wave your dick around.  Sam and Dean are doing us a huge favor, and I will _not_ have you screwing this up!”

“Damn!  Next time we need to threaten Gabriel with scary ladies, we _hafta_ include Edith!” Dean said admiringly.

I laughed in agreement.

***

After getting as much about the nest from Edith and Don as we could and then showing them to the guest bedroom—over the male vampire’s objections about staying at our house—we made some phone calls.  The first calls were to our respective employers and my professors to tell them we needed a few days off to take care of our “other duties.”  Then I called Garth, while Dean rang up Bobby.

Garth picked up after a couple of rings.  “Hey, Sam!  What’s up?”

“We need your help, man.  We’re going after a pretty big vampire nest in Portland—over twenty bad guys from what we know.  Any chance you’re available and not too far away?” I asked.

“Darn, that’s a lotta vamps!  And you want _my_ help?  Wow!”

“It’s kind of a delicate situation.  It’s a . . . I guess a rescue mission as well as a hunt.  You remember us telling you about our friend Edith?  Well, one of her nest brothers ran off—his mate got killed, and he lost it—and fell in with these assholes.  So we need help from someone who isn’t in the ‘all monsters are evil’ school.  Plus your people skills might be handy in convincing the guy we need to extract to come with us.” I told him.

“Really?” Garth sounded thrilled.  “It just so happens that I finished Garth-ing a nasty trickster spirit—not that Gabe dude—down by Reno, so I’m all yours.  I can be at your place in . . . yeah, should be there by late tomorrow morning.  That cool?”

“That’s great!  We’re trying to get a hold of Bobby too.”

Garth whistled.  “Ooh, no can do, _amigo_!  Bobby told me a couple days ago he was heading out to deal with a wendigo somewhere north of Grand Rapids.  He probably don’t even have cell signal right now.”

“Shit!” I swore.  “I don’t know who else to call on something sensitive like this.  Rufus is okay with _us_ , but I don’t know how he feels about other supernatural creatures.”

“Wish I could help, but most of the guys I know are the ‘only good vamp is a headless vamp’ types.”

“It’s okay.  We’ll have to make it work with the four of us.  Edith’s mate Don will be coming along,” I said.

“Huh, sounds like I’ll be the only regular guy there.  Should be interesting!  See you tomorrow then, Sam.”  Garth hung up.

Dean looked frustrated.  “Just got Bobby’s machine at home and voicemail on his cell, dude.  How ‘bout Garth?”

“Yeah, he just told me Bobby’s in northern Minnesota chasing down a wendigo, so there’s no way to contact him.  But Garth’s in and should be here tomorrow morning,” I replied.  “Do you think we should call in Cas?”

“He’s got his own shit going on.  I’d rather not bug him ‘cept as a last resort,” Dean said.  “If we play this smart, and if Don ain’t all talk, I think we can handle this.”

We spent the remainder of the evening researching what we could online.  We couldn’t find much on the names we were given, which was to be expected—some of these vampires could have been turned long enough ago for there to be little record of their mortal lives, and the rest were probably smart enough to be using aliases.  There was more information on the cluster of houses the nest had taken over, including Google Earth imagery of the neighborhood.  We also saw a couple passing mentions to disappearances among the homeless population, buried deep enough in the website of a local Portland newspaper that it wouldn’t garner any useful attention.

The early part of the next morning was spent in our basement assessing Don’s combat prowess.  First Dean tested his hand-to-hand skills.  The initial couple of bouts were little more than beatdowns, as my brother was obviously trying to make a point.  The vampire’s strength and speed were counterbalanced by Dean’s enhanced physical abilities, and Don’s fighting talents were no match for someone who’d been trained since childhood by a grief-crazed ex-Marine to take down creatures like him and worse.

The third round ended with Dean resting his foot lightly on the other’s throat and smirking down at the supine bloodsucker.  “Had enough yet, Spike, or d’ya need the _pansy_ to wipe the floor with your face some more?”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking get it—no more bloody insults from me, okay?”  Don coughed and sat up, then looked up at Dean somewhat resentfully.  “How the hell did you _do_ that?  I’ve tangled with a shifter a time or two before, but I ain’t ever seen one able to move like that or go toe-to-toe with a vamp!”

My husband walked over to where I was sitting and leaned against my shoulder.  “First off, I’ve been learning to kick fugly ass since I was five years old, which ain’t something most shifters can say.  Second, I’ve trained with _all_ my abilities, including ones the others don’t even know we have.  Last, I’m soulmates with the psychic who was powerful enough to take down Satan himself almost singlehandedly.  So figure it out, dickweed!”

I glanced over at Edith, who was avidly observing the proceedings.  Of course, some of her interest was due to the fact that Dean and her mate were clad only in a pair of _shitabaki_ and sweatpants, respectively, and both were covered in a fine sheen of sweat.  I had to admit that I was enjoying the view too and wouldn’t mind a little alone time with my brother.

I shook my head in an attempt to get my mind out of the gutter.  “Okay, dude, enough playing with your food.  What do you think—will he be able to hold his own or not?”

“Eh, he doesn’t suck.  He should do fine, I think, ‘specially if these goons are like most bullies and rely too much on size and brute strength.  What next—you gonna see if he knows one end of a knife from the other?”

“Something like that.”  I tossed Don a rubber practice knife and moved to the center of the floor.  “Alright, come at me, and we’ll spar for a bit.  If you can throw these too, we’ll set up a target after this.”

Don turned out to be better with a blade.  Which made some sense, given that decapitation was the most effective method to kill his kind—learning how to attack with and defend against such attacks was crucial.  We didn’t bother with a throwing target since that wasn’t something he’d ever learned.

“Okay, last thing is, can you shoot?” Dean asked.  “If so, we’ll hafta take you to the local gun range to see how you do.”

“I’ve only handled a firearm a handful of times,” the vampire admitted.  “You Yanks may be obsessed with your sodding guns, but they’re rather harder to come by where I was from.  I can probably plug someone in the torso since that’s a big bloody target, but I ain’t guaranteeing a kill shot.”

“Don’t worry about it then,” I said.  “The two of us and Garth should be enough firepower.  Bullets are only useful in this case if they’ve been dipped in dead man’s blood anyway, so your machete skills will be more important.”

“So, do I pass your fucking muster?” Don demanded as he retrieved his shirt.

“As far as your fighting skills go, yeah.  There is something else that’s just as important though.  We’re the experienced hunters, so _we’re_ in charge for this job, understand?  If we give an order, you need to follow it without arguing, particularly when we hit the nest.  We can’t afford for your attitude to get someone hurt or killed.  If you can’t abide by that, then you’re staying here,” I told him sternly.

“Don’t worry—I know I’m the spear carrier in this gig.  I might have questions beforehand, but once it’s ‘go’ time, I’ll toe the line,” he said.  He then tossed a fond glance towards his mate.  “Besides, it ain’t like I don’t get bossed around on a regular basis.”

Dean raised his hand.  “Did anyone else suddenly imagine Edith in a dominatrix outfit and Don in a gimp suit?”

I shuddered.  “Excuse me while I go bleach my brain.  Jerk!”

“Bitch!”  My brother smirked.  “Once Garth gets here, this is gonna be like the beginning of a bad joke.  A psychic, shapeshifter, vampire, and hunter walk into a bar . . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now the boys are on their first case since the move to Oregon. The next couple of chapters will be sadly smut-free as they deal with it. Hope you enjoy them regardless!
> 
> As I mentioned before, I will be away at the DC con next week, so I'll post the update Wednesday night. After that, we'll be back to the normal Friday schedule for a while. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys investigate the nest and take out some of the vamps . . .

Garth showed up not long after we’d cleaned up.  We filled him in on the details of the case, loaded up the Impala and his Ranchero, and hit the road.  We pulled into Portland a couple hours later and got rooms at a relatively nice motel, since Don’s nest was footing the bill.  Don initially bitched at sharing a room with Garth, until Dean offered to let the vampire split a room with us and then started to go into explicit detail (when Garth wasn’t in earshot) about what he and I would be doing later that night.  The expression on Don’s face even had me sniggering.

We then split up.  Garth and Don temporarily “borrowed” a utility company truck and uniforms to case the immediate area around the nest and set up surveillance cameras.  Dean and I put on our Fed suits, and then Agents Hicks and Hudson paid a visit to the journalist who wrote the articles on the homeless disappearances.

Fred Murtagh, a thin, harried-looking man in his fifties wearing a _really_ cheap suit, seemed astounded to see us.  “But why are you even here?  I didn’t think _anyone_ read those pieces!”

“We think your disappearances might be tied to a case we’re investigating,” I explained.  “The articles were quite brief, so we were hoping you could supply us with more details.”

“Another case?  So this might stretch beyond Portland?” Fred asked eagerly.

Dean said blandly, “We’re not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.  You understand.”

“But any information you can offer could be of immense value if there is a link,” I added.

The reporter sighed.  “Okay.  Well, I started hearing word on the street that people were going missing.  Mostly homeless or runaways, though a couple of times it was a prostitute working solo.  The police haven’t gotten involved because no bodies have turned up yet, and these are the sorts of people who _really_ don’t like to confide in outsiders, especially cops.  It took quite a while to get any of them to open up to _me_ , and I’m completely harmless!

“Anyways, there doesn’t seem to be a pattern to the victims like you’d expect with a serial killer—different sexes, ages, races, orientations, you name it.  No particular pattern to when they were grabbed either as far as day of the week, time of the month, time between disappearances, et cetera.  The only commonalities I could pick up is that they were all grabbed at night, usually alone though occasionally in groups of two or three, and they were fairly healthy—no drug users, no one sick with even so much as a cold, no one too thin or weak.  The fact that the victims were all healthy makes me suspect organ harvesting or human trafficking, but without any proof even my own paper won’t let me pursue this!” he said in frustration.

“Were there witnesses to any of the abductions, or did anyone notice something before or after?” I asked.

“No one’s seen any of the people getting grabbed—the perpetrator’s been too smart.  No camera footage either.  Best I could get is a few people thought they saw a white sedan in the area before some of the disappearances, but I couldn’t get anything more definitive on the car to be able to trace it.”

“Any chance we could get copies of your notes?  Or at least a list of names, dates, and locations for the abductions?  Names of the people you talked to would be very helpful as well,” I said.

Fred looked hesitant.  “I’d _like_ to help.  But it took a _lot_ of work to get these folks to trust me enough to talk.  They’re not going to talk to a Fed anyway, and if they find out I gave you their names . . .”

“Look, man, we understand.  We’re not trying to cause you any flak.  But we need to stop these kidnappings, and there might be something in your notes that could break the case,” Dean told him earnestly.

He started to waver.  “If this does turn out to be something bigger . . .”

“You’ll be the first journalist we contact,” I promised.

He hesitated a little longer before pulling out a thick folder and handing it to me.  “Please make sure I get those back.  Make copies if you need them for evidence, but I have to have the originals if the story breaks.”

“We’ll try to do our best, Mr. Murtagh.  Here’s my card in case you think of anything else.”  I handed him a business card, and then we left.

After getting into the Impala, I texted Garth to have him look for a white sedan at any of the houses the nest was using, while Dean drove us back to the motel.  Once in our room, we divided up the notes and began going through them. 

I received a reply from Garth about an hour later, stating that they were on their way back.  It also confirmed that parked next to one of the houses was a white Cadillac CTS and included the license plate.  I opened up a program on my laptop that Frank had helped me build and entered the vehicle information and plate number.  The program slipped into the city’s traffic camera system and began searching through the stored footage for images of the CTS.  It would also monitor new footage for sightings of the sedan.

By the time our companions knocked on our door, we had finished going through Fred’s notes.  There were notes of our own taped to the wall, as well as a map marked with the locations of the disappearances.  We were now analyzing the data from the traffic cam program and noting on the map where the car’s travels overlapped with the marked areas.

“We got the surveillance cameras set up all around the block, and the feed should be coming into your laptops.  We also marked off some points of interest on the satellite printout of their block—good places to watch or ambush, where the power and telephone lines go in, stuff like that,” Garth reported.  He then looked at what was up on the walls.  “Looks like you got a lot outta that reporter dude!”

“Yeah, poor guy put a lotta work into this story.  He thinks it could be organ leggers or human traffickers.  ‘Course he has no proof, so no one’s taking him seriously,” Dean said.

Don studied the map.  “Are all your . . . err, jobs so fucking complicated?”

“Sometimes—it depends on what we’re dealing with,” I replied as I marked another data point on the map.  “In this case, we know who and what we’re up against, but the difficulty is in their numbers and how smart they seem to be so far.”

“Plus we can’t go nuclear on ‘em ‘cause we gotta get your boy out safely,” Dean put in.  “We can’t go after ‘em anyway for at least a day or two.  We gotta study their movements, figure out their security, that sorta shit.  They got us majorly outnumbered, so we gotta play this smart.”

“Fortunately, the journalist’s information on the disappearances has given us a very good idea of their hunting patterns,” I said, indicating the map.  “We know the areas they like to use, and we know they like to grab new victims every six to fourteen days, depending on how many they took the previous time.  Their last abduction was two victims about nine days ago, so they’re going to start prowling for fresh blood soon.

“We need to thin their numbers out if we can before hitting the nest.  Our thought is to attack their hunting party when they go after their next target.  We figure they’re sending out four to five vamps in that CTS if they’re sometimes snatching up to three people at a time.  Taking them out ahead of time will be a big help.”

“So you’re gonna risk some poor bum or homeless kid becoming collateral damage?” Don asked incredulously.

“’Course not, dumbass!  _I’m_ gonna be the fucking bait—gonna pose as a runaway and hang around one of their hunting zones for the next coupla days.  See if I can talk to the people there about the kidnappings while I’m at it,” Dean explained. 

“Dean is ideal for this.  They tend to prefer their victims to be young and attractive when possible, and he’s going to shift a few times while he’s out there too.  If they realize he’s a shapeshifter, he’ll be an irresistible target.  We wait until they go after him in an isolated spot, I follow them in, and then the hunters become the hunted,” I said.

“Oh.  Sorry ‘bout the assumption then.”  The vampire considered for a moment.  “So I take it if you two are doing that, me and String Bean here will be monitoring the cameras on the nest.”

I nodded.  “Besides what Dean mentioned earlier, we need to know where Justin is staying, and if he leaves the nest at all.  It would be ideal if we could get to him away from the main group.”

“Won’t doing that or wiping out the hunting party clue the others in that something’s wrong?” Garth asked.  “Them ramping up their security even higher or skipping town ain’t gonna help us.”

“They ain’t gonna have time to realize they’re screwed if we do everything the same night—gank the hunting party, snatch Justin if there’s an opportunity, and hit the nest,” my brother said.  “It all depends on when they take the bait and go after me, so we hafta be ready to move on the rest when they do.”

“If we wanna whittle ‘em down before the big fight, why don’t I go into the nest?  Pretend to join up and see if I can take any of ‘em out from the inside,” Don suggested.  “None of ‘em knows who I am, after all.”

“One of ‘em does,” Garth pointed out.  “Justin mighta been your boy before, but we dunno if he’s drunk the Kool-Aid since he’s been here.  Even if he hasn’t, d’ya trust his poker face enough to risk your life on it?”

“It’s too dangerous however you look at it, man.  You’ll be by yourself and _seriously_ outnumbered if things go sideways,” I added.  “We simply don’t know enough about them to know how they’d react.  They might let you in, they might kill you on sight, or they might require you to do something drastic as some kind of initiation.”

The vampire looked disappointed.  “Fine.  What’s the plan for right now?”

“Dean’s going to the nearest Goodwill to get an outfit for his disguise so he can go out there tonight.  In the meantime, we watch the camera footage and see what we can learn,” I responded.

***

When Dean came out of the bathroom several hours later, my breath caught, but not for the usual reason.  He now looked the way he did when he was sixteen—his features were softer, his hair was longer, and he was several inches shorter.  He was also a lot thinner, so he’d obviously modeled his appearance on one of the times when he’d gone hungry for too long.  He was clad in the Goodwill rejects he’d found and grunged up.  From the perspective of the child I was at the time, Dean had been larger than life, fearless and indestructible.  But from my adult vantage point now, he appeared young, small, and vulnerable.

Seeing him like this sent a rush of emotions through me.  Sadness at the hardships he had to endure, the childhood he never had.  Anger at our father for allowing that to happen, for leaving this boy in circumstances where he had no other choices.  Guilt that I didn’t realize what he was going through in time, that I was unable to prevent any of it.

My big brother recognized what I was feeling, of course, and put his arms around me.  _It’s okay, Sammy._ I’m _okay.  I ain’t that kid anymore.  Now I’m healthy, strong, and happy, all thanks to you._

I leaned into his chest.  _I know, Dee.  It still doesn’t make what happened to you back then alright.  You should’ve been riding a bike, playing ball, stealing kisses under the bleachers—not raising a child when you were a kid yourself, not being forced to starve yourself or sell yourself to support us, not learning to kill things that most adults can’t even handle.  Dad should’ve done more to take care of you, to protect you._ I _should’ve done more._

_No, Sammy, no._ None _of that was your fault.  You were just a little kid at the time,_ and _I did my best to make sure you wouldn’t find out ‘bout any of that shit.  Besides, who’s to say that we’d be here now if none of that crap went down?  Now c’mon, we got work to do tonight._   He squeezed my shoulders.

We stopped at the next room to drop off my laptop so Garth and Don could continue the surveillance on the nest while we were out.  Don stared at my husband in fascination.

“That is _really_ fucking weird, man,” the vampire observed.

“You have _no_ idea, dude,” Dean said with a smirk, his voice much lighter than the deep adult tones I was used to.

“Let us know if the Cadillac leaves the nest and approaches our location,” I told the two of them before we left.

We then drove to a spot a few blocks away from one of the vampires’ hunting zones and hid the car.  I shielded myself as tightly as I could and cast the Notice-Me-Not spell before stealthily following Dean as he wandered into the rundown neighborhood.  I found a hidden spot where I could watch the whole area, while he mingled among the derelicts and street kids huddling around trash fires and trying to find shelter where they could. 

Dean played the part of a scared, naive runaway flawlessly.  He hunched down just outside the edges of one of the groups, trying not to draw attention to himself.  When someone finally addressed him, he timidly moved closer and tried asking some questions.  He said he’d been hiding somewhere several blocks away where people kept disappearing, so he came here hoping it was safer.  It took a little while, but soon several of them opened up, telling him of the people who’d vanished from this area and giving him warnings to stay close to them and not go anywhere by himself at night.

As this was going on, my phone vibrated to indicate a text had been received, which turned out to be from Don.  _Assholes left a little while ago, should be there in less than ten.  Sending traffic cam feed to your phone._

I passed the message on to my brother and began searching for the white sedan and its occupants using both the footage and my various senses.  It wasn’t long before I found images of the car approaching on nearby cameras.

A couple minutes later, Dean, who was the more sensitive telepath, reported.  _I can feel the vamps nearby.  Gonna start dropping the breadcrumbs._

The “crumbs” in question were of three types.  For the first, he started letting his features shift a little whenever he acted emotional, as if he was having trouble maintaining control.  He turned away each time in such a manner that his companions couldn’t see, but a car going by the alley would have a clear view.  He also hadn’t taken his evening dose of eye drops, so his eyes briefly flared silver whenever he turned away from the firelight or looked into a vehicle’s headlights.  Lastly, he loosened the constraints on his scent—normally carefully regulated to pass for human—just enough that the vampires stalking the area could detect what he was.  All this was meant to suggest a young, inexperienced shifter, which would make him an even more enticing victim.

Sure enough, the Cadillac drove past the alley a couple of times and then paused where the occupants would have an unobstructed line of sight to where Dean was hanging out.  It stood there, its windows partially open, for a few minutes before driving away.  We were fairly confident the vampires wouldn’t try anything tonight—their previous _modus operandi_ had been to case their hunting territory for a day or two before nabbing any victims.  There was a good chance they’d make an attempt tomorrow night, as we doubted they’d want to wait long before getting their hands on such delectable prey.

Dean spent the night there, not wanting to blow his cover.  He tried suggesting I go back to the motel and pick him up in the morning.  But there were still plenty of mundane threats to watch out for, so I hunkered down in my rooftop perch for a long vigil.  Not long after dawn, he rose and told the few people awake already that he was going to a busier area to try to scrounge food and maybe some money.  He then took a circuitous route back to the Impala, while I silently followed.  We returned to our motel room, quickly washed up, and fell into bed to catch up on the night’s sleep.

It was a little past noon when we woke up.  We went to a nearby buffet for lunch and then met up with the others in their room to share our findings.

“So, did it work?” Don asked eagerly as we settled down on the small couch.

Dean grinned.  “Hell yeah, it did!  They showed up not long after you gave us the head’s up, and they noticed me pretty quick.  I could practically _feel_ the sonsofbitches drooling after they caught my scent.  From what I could pick up from their thoughts, the fuckers were super-excited to tell their boss and expected he’ll give them the okay to make the grab tonight.”

“What about on your end?  Were you able to uncover anything useful?” I asked.

“We sure did!  First, our man Justin did leave the nest on foot ‘bout when the Caddy did.  He walked outta the range of the cameras, but we suspect he went to the church and cemetery a couple blocks away from their street.  He came back after a coupla hours,” Garth replied.  “He wasn’t alone, unfortunately, but there was only one dude with him.  Guy’s the size of a bigass gorilla though.”

The vampire continued, “It looked like Justin came out of one of the house at the end of the cul de sac, as did the car.  Most of the activity we’ve been able to catch is from the houses at the end.  The next couple had guards but not many people going in or out, and the ones closest to the cross street seemed empty.  They have several guards out at any given time.  Most were on patrol last night, but they’re staying under shade right now.”

“I marked down what we could see of the guards’ patrol routes and where they matched up to some of the ambush spots we noticed earlier,” Garth said, pointing to the satellite printout.  “No sign of alarm systems or dogs, which’ll make our jobs easier.”

Dean clapped the skinny hunter on the shoulder.  “That’s awesome, man!  Okay, we should plan on everything going down tonight, since the vamps most likely are gonna try coming after me.  Sam and I will go in armed and turn the tables on ‘em.  You should be prepared to snatch Justin if he goes out again, so you’ll wanna set up near that church.  If they all go out at ‘bout the same time as last night, we should be able to regroup here and still have several hours to take out the rest of the fucking nest before dawn.”

“Until it’s time to head out, we’ll take turns watching the surveillance feed so everyone else can rest up,” I said.  “Dean, do you think you can get us a good supply of dead man’s blood before tonight?”

He ignored Don’s disgusted expression and nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll hit one of the hospital morgues.”

We took the laptop back to our room so the other two could sleep.  Dean left shortly after and returned in a couple of hours with several jars of blood, most of which he transferred to syringes and tranquilizer darts.  Garth went out later to acquire a nondescript panel van which he and Don would park near the church after dark.  The nest remained quiet during the day, with only a couple of the vampires leaving to make a trip to the supermarket at one point.

Once the sun had set, Dean resumed his disguise, and we returned to the same slummy neighborhood as yesterday, while Don and Garth set themselves up in the van to continue watching the cameras until Justin emerged.  Each group had a dart gun with several darts and syringes of dead man’s blood as well as machetes and bowie knives coated in the substance.  All of us except Dean were wearing covert earbuds and mics to keep in contact.

Dean rejoined the group of homeless who’d accepted him before and offered them some of his “pickings,” which consisted of our leftovers from dinner.  He sat with them around another fire until I detected the CTS approaching and passed the word on.  His demeanor didn’t visibly change, but I could tell that he had all his senses on alert.

“I gotta take a leak.  I’ll just be around the corner,” he told his companions as he got up and moved away a few minutes later.  He said to me, _One of the vamps is walking this way.  He wasn’t in the car yesterday.  The other douchebags are waiting in the Caddy near the end of another alley over there._

_Roger that.  I’ll start moving closer,_ I responded as I moved on the rooftop where I’d been watching him to a spot closer to the dumpster that he was pretending to urinate against.

The vampire approaching my brother was tall, well-groomed, and dressed in casual but good-quality clothing.  He smiled and said, “Hello, little one.”

“Fuck off, perv!  I ain’t a hooker!” Dean said defensively, sticking to his role.

“I didn’t think you were.  I _am_ curious as to why a young shapeshifter is hiding in a place like this.”

Dean feigned confusion.  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, dude.”

“Sure you do.  You’ve always been _different_ , haven’t you—been able to do things that no one else can explain?  And your oh-so-normal family couldn’t handle it.  Tell me, how badly did they mistreat you?”  The vampire’s voice was kind, soothing, almost mesmerizing.

Dean looked down.  “They’d yell and lock me away in the house, sometimes hit me, whenever I—I . . . lost control.  They took me to different doctors, shrinks, faith healers, even tried an exorcism or two.  I finally heard them talking ‘bo—bout how they couldn’t handle having such a fr—freak around and were gonna take me to some research facility to find out _what_ I am.  I—I ran after that—I didn’t wanna get cut up like a lab rat.”

“They were fools who didn’t understand and didn’t deserve you.  There’s nothing wrong with being _different_.  There’s a whole community of people out there who are _different_ , some like you and some in other ways.  They take care of each other and don’t let the so-called ‘normal’ people hurt them,” the vamp told him.

“Wha—whaddya mean?” Dean breathed and then shrank back when the vampire showed his fangs.

“Don’t be afraid—I’m not going to do you any harm.  Like I said, we help those who are like us.  Why don’t you let me take you to someplace safe?”  He held out his hand.

Dean diffidently took it and let the vampire lead him towards the alley where the others were waiting.  I kept to the high road and followed them over the rooftops, borrowing my husband’s ability to enhance my own strength and speed to leap the gaps between buildings.  Dean asked the vampire questions as they walked, talking loud enough to mask any noises I was making above.

As I was running, I heard Garth’s voice in my earpiece, “Justin and friend just walked by.  We’re gonna go after ‘em now.”

“Roger that.  Vamps have taken the bait here, and we’re about to take them down,” I replied quietly before focusing on the pursuit again.

Dean stopped when they entered the alley and saw the other four vampires near the other end, staring at him hungrily with fangs bared.  He tried to pull his hand away while demanding, “Hey, what the hell’s going on here?”

The vampire transferred his grip to Dean’s arm and smiled nastily.  “I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely truthful earlier.  There _is_ a community of supernatural creatures who watch out for each other.  But unfortunately for you, _we_ aren’t part of it.”

Before he could drag Dean further into the alley, I slid down a fire escape and leapt off when I was a few feet from the ground, dropping the Notice-Me-Not as I landed.  I said as I straightened up, “I don’t think he wants to go anywhere with you, asshat.”

I then raised a hand and created an energy barrier across both ends of the alley, with an illusion tied in to show a truck blocking the alley to anyone on the outside looking in.  Dean meanwhile smirked at his supposed captor and shifted back to his usual form.

“Joke’s on you, you stupid sonsofbitches!  You’re the ones being hunted now!” he crowed as he jabbed a syringe into the vamp’s neck. 

As the vampire started to crumple, I threw a machete towards the other hunter and then turned towards the remaining vamps.  I slammed two of them into the wall with telekinesis and approached the others with my own blade at the ready.  Dean swiftly dispatched the “friendly” one and joined me, and we each attacked a target.

My vampire threw a fast punch towards my head, which I blocked with the machete.  He howled and grabbed his arm, and I used the distraction to sweep his head from his shoulders.  I turned in time to see Dean dodge a blow, kick his opponent hard in the stomach, and bring his blade down when she doubled over, neatly decapitating her. 

Meanwhile, the two dazed bloodsuckers got to their feet and tried to charge us.  Dean used his telekinesis to pull the left one’s feet out from under him and relieved him of his head before he could recover.  I voided, grabbed the other one by the collar as he staggered past, and thumped him forcefully into the opposite wall.  While he was still seeing stars, I quickly beheaded him.

As the two heads hit the ground, we heard a crash behind us and whirled, bloody blades dripping in our hands.  Standing behind a pile of crates, one of which was now broken open on the ground, was the reporter, Fred Murtagh.  He stared at us goggle-eyed, his face pale with shock.

“ _Sonofabitch!_ ” Dean swore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to show the boys hunting smart here, using things that the show writers often gloss over, like Sam's computer skills, Dean's gift for strategy, and modern technology in general. As well as talents unique to this series, such as Dean's shapeshifting and Sam's psychic abilities. I also wanted the portray them kicking ass and taking names, instead of constantly being thrown around by the bad guys. These are the best hunters in the country, men who've been trained for this since childhood, who've successfully taken on the worst of the supernatural world multiple times. We need to see more badassery on the show, like Dean taking on Benny's former nest singlehandedly or sniping those skinwalkers, or Sam outwitting the Alpha vampire or leading the American hunters against the BMoL.
> 
> As I mentioned previously, this updated is going up early because I will be in DC from tomorrow night through Sunday night at the Supernatural convention there. After this, I'll return to the usual Friday night posting schedule for a while. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated, and kudos and especially comments make my day. :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take out the nest with a vengeance . . .

“Wh—what were those _things_!  What ar—are _you_?” Fred stammered.

“Never a neuralizer around when you need one,” Dean muttered as he wiped his machete clean on one of the vampires’ shirts and handed it to me.  He then walked slowly towards the journalist, his hands held out non-threateningly.  “Calm down, dude.  It’s okay—you’re safe.  We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Fred backed up a little.  “Wha—what’s going on?”

Dean stopped and sighed.  “These asswipes were vampires, and they’re the ones grabbing your homeless folk and presumably killing ‘em.  Monsters are real—vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and just about everything else from the Brothers Grimm.  Sam and me are hunters, which is kinda like the monster police—we hunt down the bad ones, the ones who hurt and kill people.”

Fred looked at the bodies and then back at us.  “Normally I’d say you were completely crazy, but I _saw_ their teeth.  And I saw what _you_ both did.  Are—are all hunters monsters too?”

After cleaning mine and sheathing both blades, I moved up closer to my brother.  “No, most hunters are completely human.  Dean and I are . . . unusual.  He’s a shapeshifter, which is exactly what it sounds like—he can change his form or take those of other people.  And I’m—”

“You’re a sorcerer!” the reporter exclaimed.

Dean snickered and sent me a mental image of myself dressed in a pointed hat and purple robe, both covered in fake mystical symbols.  I glared at him before turning back to Fred.  “Not exactly.  I’m a psychic.  Now, we’ll be glad to answer more of your questions, but not here.”

Dean nodded towards the bodies.  “Whaddya think we should do with the stiffs?  Can’t exactly build a pyre in the middle of the goddamn city.  I guess we could stuff ‘em in the Caddy and roll it into the Columbia or Willamette.”

“Let me try something—this is a trick I’ve been practicing,” I said.  “We need to pile them up first.”

After moving the bodies and heads together in a heap, I motioned the other two to stand back.  I first built a shield around the pile to protect us from the heat, and then created a fire inside.  I swiftly increased the temperature until the flames burned far hotter than inside a crematory.  Within minutes, the five bodies were reduced to ash and bone fragments, which I scooped up into a bag and tossed into a dumpster.  I then retrieved the bottle of bleach I’d left at my rooftop hiding spot and splashed it on the blood stains.  Dean finished the cleanup by smearing dirt and garbage (using TK, not his hands) over the blood and scorch marks, while I removed the barriers blocking the alley entrances.

We then each took one of Fred’s arms and guided him to where we’d stashed the Impala.  He still looked like he’d been hit too hard in the head and didn’t protest.  He did make a surprised noise when I let the concealment spell on the car lapse.

“Wh—where are you taking me?” he asked fearfully.

“We’re just going back to our motel so we can answer your questions in privacy.  Afterwards, we’ll bring you back here or wherever else you want,” I told him.  “Like Dean said, you’re perfectly safe here.  We’re the good guys, I promise.”

As Dean drove us back, I contacted Garth.  “How’d it go?”

“Vamp’s dead, and we’re bringing Don’s buddy back to the motel,” he replied.  “You?”

“Five vamps down, but we ran into a complication.  We’re bringing it—um, _him_ —back too,” I said.  “We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

After parking in front of the motel, we led the journalist into our room.  Dean immediately went into the bathroom to shower and change.  I sat Fred down at the dinette table, handed him a glass, and poured him a healthy slug of whiskey.

He knocked it back in one gulp but shook his head at the offer of a refill.  “Okay.  Okay.  So . . . is it _all_ real—all the urban legends and myths and fairy tales and—and everything?”

I smiled as I started shedding the bloody outer layers of my clothing.  “Well, not _everything_.  As far as we know, Bigfoot, Nessie, and unicorns are fictional, for example—no hunter or other reliable witness has seen one.  But we can never say never.  After all, up until three years ago, we all thought angels weren’t real, and then they showed up!”

“A—a— _angels_?” he asked faintly.

“Yes, angels are real, and so are demons.  God is real, as are the deities from other pantheons.  But what’s written in the Bible and in legends and literature isn’t always accurate.  Vampires, for example, have a full second set of teeth that are all fangs, like you saw, and stakes, garlic, crosses, and all that do jack-shit against them.  They can even go out in sunlight, though it’ll give them bad sunburn,” I explained.  “And angels aren’t sweet guys with fluffy wings and shiny haloes.  They’re warriors of God, and most are sanctimonious dicks.”

Fred shook his head as if in disbelief.  “And . . . hunters . . . are you all FBI agents?  Like you’re a whole bunch of Mulders and Scullys or—or the paranormal version of the Men in Black?”

I laughed.  “I wish we had that kind of funding and support, and Dean would _love_ the toys!  No, the government has no idea about us, and they, the scientific community, and the world at large thinks the supernatural doesn’t exist.  Hunters are regular folk, that’s all.  Most get into it because they’ve lost a loved one to a monster attack, though some are raised in the life by their parents.  That’s what happened with us—my mom was killed by a demon, my dad became a hunter to track it down, and he trained us.”

I then looked at him seriously.  “You do understand that you can’t write an article about any of this, right?  We _need_ anonymity to survive and do our jobs, so that kind of exposure could be fatal.  And Dean and I . . . we’ve been trying to build a regular life outside of hunting, and if our neighbors and co-workers heard about this—”

He snorted.  “As much as I might want to, there’s no point.  No one would _ever_ believe me!  They’d think I was drunk or high or gunning for a job at the _Weekly World News_.  I might not have much of a reputation as a journalist, but something like this would tank it unless I had _mountains_ of proof.”

Dean emerged from the bathroom at that point, clean and dressed in his own clothes.  “Your turn in the shower, Sammy.  I’ll take over being grilled by Carl Kolchak here.  Then we gotta meet up with the others to deal with the rest of the fucking nest.”

I nodded and hurried into the bathroom to take a rushed shower.  After scrubbing all the vampire blood off and changing into a fresh set of clothing, I joined the others.  The reporter’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and I assumed Dean had been regaling him with tales of some of our exploits.

Dean immediately stood when he saw me.  “Listen, man, we gotta go.  The vamps we killed earlier were part of a larger group, and we hafta take out the rest to stop ‘em from killing more people.  You can wait here until we get back, or we can call you a cab.”

“I’ll stay here.  I _have_ to find out how this ends,” Fred responded.

We then went next door, where Garth and Don were talking to a thin, worn-looking vampire whose dark skin was ashy from stress.  Don smiled as we entered the room.  “Justin, these are Sam and Dean, the other hunters who’re helping us get you out and get rid of those bastards.  Guys, this is my mate, Justin.”

“Nice to meetcha,” Dean said, and then looked at Garth.  “How’d it go, dude?”

Garth grinned.  “Easy as pie!  I shot Kong with one of the darts and then took his head clean off when he crashed down.  Justin here was more than happy to get outta Dodge with us.  We dumped the body in a deep ravine nearby before coming back.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked Justin.

He said, “Relieved, and anxious to go home.  I first came here to get away from the memories of my poor Elise, and I was pretty out of it with grief for a long time.  I didn’t even know Marcel and Katie had been driven off so violently when they came to see me until just recently!  And at first, I had no idea that these guys were rogues—they were very careful around me. 

“But eventually I started to notice things, like that the blood they gave me was _too_ fresh and didn’t taste like the packs from a blood bank.  I snooped around when I could, but I couldn’t let on when I discovered the truth—I was afraid they’d either hurt me or make me join them in their barbarity!”

“It turns out these cocksuckers aren’t killing their vics as fast as we thought.  They’re keeping ‘em alive for weeks or more, and abusing ‘em physically and sexually as well as feeding on ‘em.  It’s only when the poor blokes get too worn out that they off ‘em,” Don explained grimly.

“From what Justin was able to find out, they’ve turned one of the houses into their ‘larder,’ and there might be close to a dozen live prisoners locked up in there,” Garth continued.  “And they built a crematorium in the basement of another house, which is how they’re getting rid of the bodies.  Those are the two houses that are guarded but don’t have a lot of vamp traffic.”

Dean studied Justin for a moment.  “He ain’t lying.  Sorry, man, but like Garth said yesterday, he mighta drunk the Kool-Aid.  We hafta be sure whose side he’s on before we trust his intel.”  This was in response to Don’s indignant exclamation.

My brother went on, “Alright, after we take out the patrolling guards, we gank the guards on those houses next and get the victims to the van before we hit the main nest.  We don’t want those sonsofbitches using any of ‘em as hostages.  Justin, you okay to stay here alone ‘til we get back?  Sam’s gonna shield both rooms so that no one but us can get back in.”

While Justin nodded, Don asked, “What was your ‘complication?’”

I sighed.  “The reporter, Fred, saw us as we were killing the hunting party.  We brought him back to our room to explain things and make sure he won’t try to write an exposé piece.  He’s still in there—wants to see how this hunt ends.”

“Dude wasn’t trying to follow us.  He was there to get more info for his story when he saw the vamp leading me away.  He followed thinking he was gonna stop another abduction, and then everything went weird on him,” Dean added.  “And don’t worry, not only did I make sure that he ain’t lying ‘bout no articles on this, I also frisked him for recording devices.”

“Bloody hell!  Just what we need!” Don groused.  “What’re we supposed to do with him after this?”

Dean shrugged.  “Fuck if I know.  We’ll hafta figure that out later.  We got bigger fish to fry right now.”

I stood.  “We need to get going before they start to wonder about the hunting party or Justin.  Let’s load up!”

***

We decided to bring the Impala, Ranchero, and the van since we didn’t know how many rescued prisoners we might have to transport.  We parked the vehicles around the corner and stealthily entered the cul de sac.  Dean climbed up onto the roof of one of the empty house, from where he’d have clear line of sight on most of the property controlled by the nest.  He was armed with the pneumatic equivalent of a sniper rifle and multiple tranquilizer darts filled with dead man’s blood. 

The rest of us made our way to the various ambush positions we’d marked through our earlier surveillance and waited.  As each one of the vampire guards made his or her way past where we were hiding upwind of their path, we heard a soft thunk as a dart hit its target and delivered its debilitating payload.  Dispatching them once they fell was child’s play, and we dragged each body somewhere out of sight and move onto the next spot.

We were able to dispose of the five guards patrolling the grounds and the one standing watch outside the crematorium house with little to no issue.  Dean radioed that he couldn’t get a clear view of the guard on the porch of the house where the prisoners were kept.  Fortunately, both Garth and I were carrying handgun-sized dart guns.  Garth tranked the vamp, and I moved in and beheaded him.  The three of us went inside and crept through the house, looking for the second guard.  We found her checking the doors upstairs, and this time I shot and Don chopped.

Dean joined us at this point, and we started picking locks on the bedroom doors.  What we found inside was sickening.  Each of the four bedrooms held two to three people chained to the walls by collars around their necks and manacles around their ankles.  The ten prisoners were naked, dirty, underfed, and covered in bruises, cuts, and bites.  They were all weakened to various degrees, with a couple barely able to stand and one who remained unconscious.  While Dean, Garth, and I controlled our fury and worked on unlocking the collars and manacles, Don ransacked the house for clothing, sheets, and blankets with tears streaming down his face.

Once these poor people had been freed from their restraints and dressed as best as we could manage, we led or carried them, under the screen of a Notice-Me-Not, to where we’d left our cars.  We then gently loaded them into the back of the van, covering and cushioning them with the sheets and blankets.

Dean then turned to Don, whose eyes were reddened but face was hard.  “You gotta drive these guys to the ER, man.”

The vampire looked startled.  “What?  Won’t you need me here?”

“These folk need medical attention _now_.  That one poor lady woulda ended up in the incinerator tonight if we hadn’t come, but she still might not make it if she don’t see a doctor ASAP.  And some of the others ain’t much better,” Dean insisted.

“We’ll be okay.  There aren’t that many rogue vamps left, if Justin’s count is correct.  We killed six earlier and eight just now, which leaves eight still alive.  The three of us should be able to handle them, especially if you factor in what Dean and I can do,” I said.

Don rubbed a hand across his face.  “O—okay.  But what do I tell ‘em when the hospital asks what happened?”

“Tell ‘em the truth, minus the part about vampires.  You came to Portland to get your friend away from a gang that was bad news, and he told you they’d been kidnapping homeless people and doing horrible shit to them.  You and some companions came here, rescued the prisoners, and then you brought them to the hospital,” my husband instructed.  “Give ‘em fake names and contact info, and try to delay ‘em from calling the cops for a bit if you can.  Then get outta there quick.  I’d recommend ditching the van since it’ll be on the hospital security cameras and finding another way back to the motel.”

“Are you gonna have enough time to finish up here before the fuzz shows up?” Don asked in concern.

“Trust me—now that no innocents are at risk, taking care of these monsters won’t be much of a challenge,” I replied, my expression pitiless.  Dean’s countenance was equally implacable, and even Garth had lost his pleasant demeanor.

The vampire nodded and got into the driver’s seat.  He said something softly to the people huddled behind him and then drove off, taking the turns carefully to avoid jostling them too much.

Garth looked at both of us.  “You’re gonna smite ‘em into oblivion, ain’t you?  What can I do?”

“We need to gather up the bodies of the guards we killed and throw them into one of the three houses on the end, where the others still are.  I’ve put barriers around those buildings that only we can pass through, so the vampires can’t escape.  If any of them try to stop you, trank them and push them back into the house,” I said.

“We leaving the larder and cremation houses as-is for the police?”

“Yeah.  Douse any vamp blood in bleach, but leave everything else so the authorities have an idea what happened to those unfortunate bastards,” Dean answered.

Garth nodded in agreement, and we got to work.  He started grabbing heads, while Dean and I moved the bodies through a combination of telekinesis and enhanced strength.  The vampires trapped in the three houses tried to break out when we opened the doors to toss the remains in, but they fell back when hit with darts or syringes of dead man’s blood.  Or in the case of the leader, who’d been described to us by Justin, when beaten into unconsciousness by my enraged brother.

Once all the rogue vampires, live and dead, were contained inside, we backed off to a safe distance away.  I then raised my hands, drew upon my power, and rained fire and lightning down upon the nest.  Dean offered up his energy as well, which I used to heighten the intensity of the conflagration.  Once it was obvious that no one within still survived, I dropped the barriers.

We watched the inferno for several minutes.  Garth said haltingly, “I can sorta get why vamps or other monsters kill people for food.  It ain’t _right_ , but it’s kinda understandable.  Everybody’s gotta eat, and maybe some of ‘em don’t know they can get by without killing.

“But _this_ . . . torturing and raping people for no other reason than—than the _fun_ of it . . . it’s just—just—”

“Evil,” I finished for him.  “If there’s the equivalent of Hell for supernatural creatures, these fuckers are burning in it.  I have no regrets about what we’ve done tonight, other than not stopping it sooner.”

Dean squeezed my hand.  We then walked back to our cars and drove away as sirens grew in the distance.

***

We found Justin and Fred talking together quietly in our room when we returned to the motel.  Justin stood, looking concerned.  “Did something happen to Don?”

“Nah, he’s fine.  He took the vics to the ER and is making his way back,” Dean answered.  “He called a little while ago to let us know he walked part of the way and is hitching a ride for the rest.  He should be here soon.”

The vampire looked relieved.  “That’s good to hear!  And that none of the rest of you took any injury.  Are—are they all dead?”

“Yes,” I said flatly.

He shrank back a little and swallowed at my tone.  “Oh.  Well . . . uh, I hope you don’t mind that I came over here.  I was feeling restless waiting by myself and thought that Fred might be feeling the same.”

Fred meanwhile leaned forward.  “What _happened_?”

“Let us get cleaned up first, dude.  Vamp blood stains even worse than the regular shit!”  Dean grabbed a set of clean clothes and went into the bathroom.  Once he came out, I went in to change and add my bloody clothing to the ones he had soaking in the bathtub.

I emerged to Dean describing the condition of the prisoners, and both the reporter and vampire looked horrified.  I sat down next to him on the bed and leaned into him, and he put his arm around my shoulders.

When he paused after telling of Don’s departure with the injured, I interjected, “We have names for some of them and descriptions for the rest.  We should be able to match them up in your notes to the people who went missing.”

“Anyways, Sam blocked all the windows and doors in the three houses where the remaining fuckwads were holed up, and we tossed the bodies of the guards we ganked in with ‘em.  A few tried to make a run for it when we opened the doors, but we hit ‘em with a dose of dead man’s blood and shoved ‘em back inside.  ‘Cept for the leader, that Cedric dude you told me ‘bout—I beat the living shit outta him with pleasure.  Then Sam nuked both houses—hit ‘em with a shit-ton of fire and lightning.  Once we were sure no one was coming out, we left,” Dean concluded.

Fred stared at me.  “Shit!  How much can you _do_?”

“A lot and not enough,” I said wearily.  Dean shot me a concerned look, which I waved away.

“What happens now?” Justin asked quietly.

“Tonight we take Fred to wherever he wants and then crash after Don gets back.  Tomorrow we go to our place, where Edith is waiting, and then she and Don will take you home,” Dean replied.

“And you guys keep doing this—hunting evil monsters and trying to help people in the shadows.”  The journalist looked pensive.  “Is there anything I can do?  I mean, I’m no Buffy, but there has to be _something_.”

“Buffy still needed her Scooby gang, and so do hunters,” my brother said.  “You keep doing what you do best—search for stories and information.  And if you find something hinky, like weird accidents or unexplainable deaths, you pass that kinda shit onto us.  Don’t matter if it’s here in Portland or somewhere else.”

“Before you leave, we’ll give you our numbers and the number of another hunter, Bobby Singer,” I added.  “Bobby is like our central dispatcher.  He collects information on potential cases, checks to see if they’re legit, and then contacts available hunters in the area to take care of them.  He’ll be the best person to send strange stories to.”

Justin returned to his room, and Dean went to drop Fred off at his apartment.  Don got back shortly after they left and checked in to see how we were doing.  Once I was alone again, I decided to take a long hot shower to try to clear my head.

When I walked out of the bathroom again, Dean was putting most of a fresh six-pack of beer into the mini-fridge.  He smiled at the sight of me in nothing but a towel around my waist and handed me an opened bottle.  I took a long drink and sat on the side of the bed with a sigh.

My husband sat down on the other side, swung his legs up, and leaned back against the headboard.  He then tugged me back until I was reclining against his chest.  Once I was comfortable, he began combing his fingers through my damp hair.

 _What’s up, baby brother?_ he asked softly. _You’ve been down ever since we got back._

I turned my head to press my face into his shoulder.  _I know we couldn’t have rescued those people any sooner.  But seeing what was done to them, imagining what they suffered before we got to them . . .  And knowing that there were dozens of victims killed before, here and wherever that nest was before . . .  I can’t stop thinking about it._

He gently scratched my scalp.  _Yeah, this was a real hard one.  What those bastards did—even Crowley wouldn’t sink that low, and he’s a fucking demon!  Like you told Garth, they were_ evil. 

He put a finger under my chin to tilt my head up so he could look into my eyes.  _But Sammy, it’s just like what you try to tell me to keep me from beating myself up.  We_ can’t _save ‘em all.  It’s the nature of our shitty job that we usually show up after the body count’s already started, and we can’t always find and gank the fugly before it kills again.  In this case, these assclowns were damn smart, and it was sheer coincidence that we found out ‘bout ‘em at all.  We gotta focus on the fact that we_ did _save ten people tonight, and we prevented those monsters from_ ever _hurting anyone else._

I sighed again.  _I know—you’re right.  It’s not easy to let this stuff go though.  We had such a big win with stopping the Apocalypse, and we have these amazing abilities now to go along with our hunter training.  And yet horrible shit like this keeps happening . . ._

 _But that crap ain’t on us, kiddo.  People have been getting hurt and worse since the beginning of time,_ Dean said sadly.  _If anything, add this to the list of why God needs to have his fucking ass kicked.  Though maybe things will get better if Cas can actually convince his siblings to stop being uptight douchebags and lend a hand around here._

He bent his head to kiss me.  _Now finish your beer and find something stupid to watch on TV for a little while.  I’m gonna take a shower, and when I’m done, I’ll make sure you ain’t thinking ‘bout anything depressing!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of the boys hunting smart and being righteously badass. Sorry that this chapter ended on a more somber note though. The bad guys here took a darker turn than I originally planned, and that's even with leaving out any explicit descriptions of the horrible things they were doing. To balance this out, the next chapter will be all fluff and smut! And the boys managed to strengthen a connection with the supernatural community, as well as possibly recruit someone for the hunter support network.
> 
> There is a small chance that next week's update may be delayed. I'm having surgery on Tuesday to remove a tumor from my left breast; this will be a lumpectomy, not a mastectomy, so the recovery time is usually a couple of days barring any complications. So while I should be able to post the next update next Friday, you'll know why if it's late. The real "fun" will be when I start chemo a few weeks later . . . :( But I'm very lucky as far as cancer diagnoses go--the tumor was caught very early, and I should recover completely after treatment. I just hope the side effects of the chemo don't affect my ability to keep writing too much. And hopefully everyone will be understanding if my updating schedule has to slow down over the next few months (this story won't be affected as I'm almost done writing it, but Part 5 might be).
> 
> So in the meantime, constructive criticism is always welcome. And kudos and comments are greatly appreciated--they are very encouraging both to me and to other writers if you like their stories. Thanks!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys celebrate Dean's birthday . . .

I smiled down at my sleeping husband.  He was lying in his favorite position, comfortably sprawled on his stomach with one hand under his pillow (which still hid a large knife—old habits die hard).  His dark blond hair was tousled and soft, his long lashes were fanned against his freckled cheeks, and his lush lips were slightly parted.  It seemed almost a shame to disturb him, but my plans for today didn’t include spending all morning asleep.

The past couple of weeks had gone by fairly peacefully.  The vampires had returned home safely after spending a day at our house, and they’d kept in touch on how Justin was recovering.  Dean was enjoying his work at the auto shop, and my classes and part-time job were going well.  The second floor was only missing a couple pieces of furniture, and we were currently focused on the basement workshop, having completed the panic room and vault.  We’d even gone on another case the previous weekend, a salt-and-burn in Klamath Glen so easy that we spent more time rolling around in our soft bed at the B&B than we did working.

Now my primary concern was deciding the best way to wake the sleeping beauty next me.  I wanted to keep him in a good mood despite what he’d consider the unreasonably early hour for a Saturday.  So I leaned over and started laying a line of kisses down the warm skin over the center of his firm back.  He stirred as I reached the base of his spine and murmured incoherently into the pillow, still not quite awake. 

I filled my hands with his rounded buttocks and spread them so that I could run my tongue down the crease between to the pink furl of his entrance.  I licked at the dried semen crusted around it before pushing my tongue past the outer ring of muscle, still loosened from last night’s exertions.  I tasted the remnants of our mingled fluids while thrusting my tongue in and out of his puckered hole.  He gasped and lifted his hips, allowing me to reach deeper into his slick channel.  By the time I pulled my face away, my lips and chin were wet with spit, and he was keening and writhing beneath my hands.

I wiped my chin off with one hand and rolled my lover onto his back with the other.  I then slid my tongue up his perineum and gently scraped my teeth over his scrotum before drawing each of his testicles into my mouth and rolling them around.  He gasped and arched his back as I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft and swallowed him down.  I inserted two fingers of my free hand into his velvety passage and rubbed the tips against his prostate while bobbing my head up and down his length.  It took only a couple of minutes of sucking his cock and massaging his sweet spot before he shouted and came, filling my mouth with his warm seed.

As I sat back and swallowed, Dean eyed my neglected erection and lifted up his legs in invitation.  I wasted no time in sinking into his tight channel, and we both sighed happily when I bottomed out.  I thrust in and out of him, starting at a slow, steady pace and gradually increasing the speed and intensity until I was practically slamming him into the mattress.  He cried out and squeezed his inner walls each time the head of my member grazed his pleasure spot, which just encouraged me to go harder and faster.  The bed was creaking in protest by the time I groaned and ejaculated, and he followed me noisily into orgasm almost immediately after.

Once I was capable of speech again, I kissed my brother tenderly.  _Good morning, Dee!  Happy birthday!_

He kissed back and then gave me a puzzled look.  _Not that I’m complaining ‘bout the_ awesome _wake-up call, but my birthday ain’t ‘til Monday, dude._

_I know, but we’re celebrating early.  I’ve got a bunch of stuff planned for today that I think you’ll really enjoy.  Tomorrow we’re staying in and relaxing, and you’ll get your presents.  There’s going to be_ no _working this weekend—no cases, no renovations, no chores.  Now come on!_   I bounced out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.

He followed me slowly.  _What’s the big deal?  This ain’t a milestone birthday—I’m just turning thirty-two._

_I’m making up for lost time_ , I told him as I turned on the shower.  _How often has anyone done something nice for your birthday?  God knows Dad never did.  I doubt he even remembered most years, not when there were more important things to think about, like hunting and drinking.  I used to make you a card and get you a little gift each year when I was a kid, but when I got to be a teenager I became too absorbed with my own issues and stopped.  But you always made or bought me a cake and gave me something for my birthday, even if all you could afford was a paperback I wanted.  So just like last month was for all the Christmases we never celebrated, this is for all the birthdays I skipped._

_Sammy, you don’t hafta—_

_Yes, I do, Dee._   I held my hand out.

He took it and stepped into the shower after me.  I pulled him close, and we made out while hot water hit us from the rainfall showerhead above and body jets to the sides.  Once we were thoroughly wet, we took turns massaging each other with shampoo and shower gel.  After we’d rinsed all the suds off, I hoisted my brother up, and he wrapped his limbs around me as his silky channel slid around my cock.  I pushed him against the wall and proceeded to pound into him strongly while sucking a hickey into the base of his neck.  He held on tightly and swore or chanted my name with each forceful thrust.  He reached his climax first, and I surged into his taut passage a few more times before shooting my load deep inside him.

_Ya know, we don’t_ hafta _go out today.  In fact, why don’t we not leave the bedroom at all?_ he coaxed as I dried him off.

_We can do that all day tomorrow if you want.  But I told you, today we have plans!_   I then gently shoved him towards the walk-in closet before drying myself off.

Dean grumbled while getting dressed, but his natural curiosity soon took over, and he followed me willingly to my car.  We drove into Eugene, where our first stop was at Bagel Sphere, where we filled up on coffee and breakfast sandwiches.  We also got a bag of bagels, some muffins and scones, and freshly-made flavored cream cheeses to go.  I stored the cream cheese in our old green cooler, which was already loaded with ice.

Next we drove up to the Eugene Airport to visit the Oregon Air and Space Museum, which was housed in a large hangar.  There were aircraft of all kinds on display inside and outside, including fighter jets and bombers from World War I through Operation Desert Storm, as well as engines, flight suits, and uniforms.  There were also exhibits on the first flight around the world, the timeline of the space program, aircraft armaments, a tribute to the Oregon Aces, a large collection of model aircraft, and more. 

Dean, of course, loved all of it.  He was like a little kid, tugging on my hand as he scampered between displays, begging me to take pictures of him with the planes he liked best, and pestering the kind staff with questions.  He frequently looked like his hands itched to dance over one of the cockpits’ controls or take apart one of the engines.  And the way he was eyeing the model planes . . .

“This going to be the start of a new hobby, isn’t it?” I asked with a grin as we walked out.

He blushed a little.  “Maybe . . .  I was just thinking that now we can actually have _real_ hobbies, ya know?  Most of the stuff I did before for fun, like cooking and working on Baby, was shit that I enjoyed but also _had_ to be done.  And except for the few tools I had, none of ‘em required us to carry a lotta _things_ around—even for cooking, I either used shit that was already in the kitchen or bought cheap crap that I didn’t care ‘bout leaving behind.  You and your books were the same way—other than a few favorites you kept with you, you mostly just downloaded or borrowed ‘em.  And that was ‘cause we couldn’t afford to be loaded down on the road.

“But it’s different now, ‘cause we got a whole _house_ to fill.  So you can get as many books and I can get as many tools as we want.  And there’s no reason _not_ to get into models or painting or . . . or stamp collecting.”

“You’re right.  We’ve been so busy with renovations and getting used to this new life that I guess neither of us stopped to think about this before,” I said.  “So go get some models and glue and whatever if you really want.”

After the museum, we went to the Bier Stein, a pub in midtown Eugene, for lunch.  We split a plate of Bavarian pretzels, and then he had a bratwurst sandwich and fries and I the Gouddhist sandwich and salad.  All this was washed down with bottles of beer, ale, and cider, and several more found their way into the cooler.

In keeping with that theme, we next headed over to the Ninkasi Brewing Company for a tour of the brewery and a visit to their tasting room.  My husband was tickled by the names of some of their beers—as he’d been by the names of some of the sandwiches at the pub.  And so bottles of Tricerahops and Sleigh’r joined the others in the cooler.  Now that we were no longer scraping by on hustling and credit card fraud, we were learning to appreciate more than the cheapest rotgut on tap.

As he closed the lid to the trunk, Dean commented, “First a beer pub and now a brewing company.  If you keep this up, we’re gonna die of alcohol poisoning, dude.  My booze tolerance ain’t what it used to be!”

“And I’m glad, Dee—you were going to pickle yourself if you kept drinking like that!  And there aren’t any more beer-related activities for today.  Though there _are_ several other breweries and wineries around here—something to keep in mind for later visits.  Fortunately, our next stop is literally next door, so we’ll have time to clear our heads before driving to dinner,” I responded.

“Well, you’re the reason I don’t need to drink so much no more!  It’s much more fun to stay sober now!” he declared and curled an arm around my waist as we walked to the neighboring building.

Our destination was the Blairally Vintage Arcade, which had a small bar and seating area and a _large_ selection of pinball and classic video game machines.  We ignored the bar and made a beeline for the games.  Some of the pleasanter memories of our childhood involved machines like these.  If the motel or bar Dad took us to had a game machine or two in a corner, or if we were left somewhere close to a mall that had an actual arcade, we’d scrounge up some change and spend a happy couple of hours playing.  The games usually turned competitive—though I suspected Dean let me win sometimes when I was really young—complete with wagers, smack talk, and good-natured shoving.  Our time at Blairally was no different, with triumphant crowing at each win and friendly insults at the other’s mistakes.

With some reluctance, I eventually pulled my brother away so that we could drive to the Agate Alley Laboratory for dinner.  The recently-opened restaurant had a mad scientist theme, so the staff was dressed in lab coats and goggles, the furniture was steel examination tables, padded lab stools with backrests, and black epoxy resin countertops for the bar, the drinks were served in beakers and Erlenmeyer flasks, and the décor included strange antique laboratory instruments and equipment, large tubes of brightly colored, glowing liquids, and specimen jars holding failed “experiments.” 

We had shiitake cigars and date spheres for appetizers, followed by crab bisque for him and roasted beet salad for me, then the ocean melt sandwich with truffle fries for him and the quail egg ricotta ravioli for me, and finished with dark chocolate cake with salted caramel and mascarpone frosting.  Our meal was accompanied by some quirky cocktails, such as the Newton’s Apple, Neverlasting Gobstopper, and Aztec Alchemist, as well as MST3K projected on the back wall.  The service was a little slow, but our food was spectacular.

The last place we went to was the new Matthew Knight Stadium on the University of Oregon’s campus.  I had two tickets to the men’s basketball game that night, in which the UO Ducks were playing against the Colorado University Buffaloes.

Dean, predictably, had to comment about the team’s name.  “Your sports teams are called the _Ducks_?  Really, man?  They couldn’t have found something cooler?  Or at least gone with the Mighty Ducks?”

“Hey, the Ducks have a long history at the university,” I replied defensively.  “Our teams were originally called the Webfoots after a group of Revolutionary War heroes who settled in this area.  People started associating the team with ducks, and the mascot for a while was a live duck named Puddles.  The name officially changed to the Ducks after Disney agreed to let the school use a version of Donald Duck as its mascot.  And knock the name all you like, but our teams are in NCAA Division I, and our players frequently get professionally drafted.”

Despite his initial skepticism, we both enjoyed the game a lot, and he allowed afterward that maybe the Ducks were cool after all.  We then drove home and put the food and drinks away.  We sat down in the family room with a couple of the beers to unwind before going to bed.

After taking a long swig from his bottle, my husband leaned over and kissed me.  _Thanks, Sammy.  Today was awesome!  The museum, the brewery, the restaurants, and everything else were a lotta fun.  This has definitely been the best birthday I’ve ever had!_

I returned the kiss, licking the hoppy flavor from his lips.  _You’re welcome, Dee, and I’m glad you enjoyed today.  Don’t forget though, there’s still more tomorrow!_

***

I made sure to wake up somewhat early the next morning and managed to slip out of bed without waking Dean.  I quietly washed up and dressed, started the coffee machine, and left the house to pick up one of his gifts.  I returned and stashed that gift in the study, with Hannibal standing guard.  I then retrieved the other gifts from their hiding spots and arranged them in the family room.  I prepared two cups of joe—one black with two sugars, one loaded with “girly” stuff he loved to tease me about—and set them on the coffee table as well. 

Satisfied with the preparations, I went into our bedroom and softly shook my brother’s shoulder.  _Wake up, Dee!  Your birthday presents are waiting for you!_

He mumbled and tried to bury his face in the pillow.  Then my words sank in, and he lifted his head.  _Presents?_

_Yeah.  So you need to get up now!_

_Alright, hold your fucking horses, brat!_ he muttered as he got out of bed, put on his robe, and went into the bathroom.  He emerged a few minutes later and complained, _What the hell happened to not leaving the bedroom today?_

_We can still do that later if you really want,_ after _you’ve opened all your presents.  Now close your eyes,_ I ordered.  After he complied with a put-upon sigh, I tied a scarf over his eyes.  _This is to keep you from peeking, because I_ know _you!_

I took his hand and carefully led him into the family room.  After guiding him to a seat in one of the armchairs and handing him his mug of coffee, I let him take a couple of sips before removing the blindfold.

He stared at the wrapped gifts sitting on the coffee table.  “Does it matter which one I open first?”

“Start with this one.”  I handed him a shallow rectangular package.

Dean ripped off the wrapping paper and opened the box, revealing several books.  The first two were lessons on how to play the guitar.  The rest were collections of sheet music for classic rock songs, starting at beginner level and then increasing in difficulty.

He obviously hadn’t imbibed enough caffeine, because he gave me a confused glance.  “Uh, Sam . . . you know I don’t have a guitar, right?”

I grinned at his expression and passed over another box.  “Just keep going.”

This one contained an embroidered guitar strap, electronic tuner, ten-foot cable, set of extra strings, and set of picks of differing thickness.  The next thing he unwrapped was a folding guitar stand.  And the last present on the coffee table proved to be a Marshall fifteen-watt combo amplifier.  By this point, his face was lit up, and he eagerly gazed around for another package.

I got up and went behind the sofa.  “I think you’re looking for this, honey.”

He opened the hard case I’d placed in his lap and gaped for a moment.  He then reverently lifted the black Epiphone Les Paul 100 electric guitar out.  I moved the case out of the way so that he could cradle the guitar.

My husband looked up at me with wide eyes.  _Sammy, this is—this is_ beyond _awesome!  I dunno what to say!_

_You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.  Do you remember the summer you found that beat-up acoustic guitar by the dumpster?_   I smiled in reminiscence.  _You fixed and polished that old thing up, and then you spent the next few weeks teaching yourself how to play it.  I was amazed at how good you sounded without a single lesson, and I think I was more upset than you were when Dad made you leave it behind._

_Yeah, I remember that guitar—it was a_ serious _goddamn chick magnet!_   He cocked his head at me.  _You never said anything ‘bout it back then though._

_Hey, I’d just turned thirteen, and admitting that your older brother was cool was_ so _uncool!_   I shrugged.  “The music store said this is one of the best guitars for beginners, and I got the accessories they recommended.  But don’t get too engrossed in it just yet—we’re not done!”

He looked surprised as he carefully put the guitar back in its case.  “There’s _more_?”

“Yep.  And this gift is from Hannibal as well as me.”  I raised my voice.  “Hannibal, bring it here, boy!”

There was an answering bark from the study, and then the pup came prancing into the room.  In his mouth was the handle to a large basket, and in the center of the cushion in the basket sat a fluffy calico kitten.  Most of her coat was mottled in deep black and vibrant orange, except for a bright white muzzle, neck, chest, belly, and socks.  And her eyes were almost the exact shade of green as my brother’s.

Hannibal set the basket down at Dean’s feet and grinned up at him.  The kitten stretched, looked up, and mewed plaintively.  Dean gingerly scooped up the small ball of fur and lifted her to his chest.

“Oh man, she’s so tiny and soft,” he breathed.  He gave me another wide-eyed look.  “You—you got me a kitten too?”

I grinned as broadly as the puppy.  “This was all _his_ idea.  We were running in the woods out back about a week ago, and Hannibal found this bedraggled little fuzzball a few blocks from here and gently picked her up by the scruff.  She was in too good of a shape to be a stray, so we knocked on some doors until we found her home.

“It turns out this lady had bought a purebred Norwegian Forest Cat a few months ago, but before she could get the cat spayed, the little minx got out.  And then presented her several weeks later with a litter that’s half-Wegie, half-sneaky-neighbor-cat.  _This_ little girl ran outside when they let the dogs out that morning and got herself lost until we found her.

“I sat down and talked with the lady for a while.  She hadn’t found homes for all the kittens yet, even though they’re nearly four months old, because she was considering whether to keep one or two.  Meanwhile, Hannibal was playing with this kitten, licking her, and being _so_ careful, and I had to drag him away when I left.  That, and the fact that she reminds me of you, got me thinking.  So I called the woman back and asked if we could adopt her.  She charged a small fee to cover some of the vet bills and held the kitten for me until this morning.”

“I think I’ve seen pictures of the breed.  She’ll grow up to be a big damn fluffy beauty if she takes after her mom.”  Dean rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, and two pairs of green eyes blinked up at me.  “She’s already adorable!”

“She’s not the only one!” I said with a fond smile.  “Her previous owner said she’s up-to-date with her shots, and we’ll have to wait until she’s six months old to get her spayed.  I got her some of the basics already, and we can go to the pet store together later to get her more.”

“Okay.  Well, right now I gotta make breakfast.  Why don’t you set up the stuff you got for her?”  He stood, put the kitten on his shoulder, and walked to the kitchen. 

I went out to the garage to retrieve the cat supplies.  The litter box was set up in a corner of the utility room, the food and water bowls in the kitchen, the basket in front of the fireplace next to one of Hannibal’s beds, and the bed in our bedroom next to his other one.  The cans of wet food and bags of kibble and kitty litter were stored in the pantry next to the dog food.

When I returned to the kitchen, plates of sausages, sunny-side-up eggs, and toast were already on the breakfast bar, and Dean was sliding the last of the pancakes onto another plate.  From the way the puppy and kitten were licking their chops, I guessed they’d already gotten their share.  I grabbed the syrup, butter, and jam and took a seat.  He set the pancakes down, and we loaded up our plates.

After we’d finished eating and cleared away the dishes, Dean said, “Why don’t you take Hannibal out for his morning walkies?  Astrid will help me figure out how to put all the guitar shit together.”

“Astrid?  You’re naming the cat after the girl from—”

“Shuddup!  You know that movie kicks ass!  Besides, I ain’t naming her Freya or Sif like half the other girl Forest Cats, and Frigg sounds like you’re trying to swear,” he retorted.

“I guess.  So . . . does that make the dog Toothless?”

From the speculative look the other man suddenly got, I suspected dragon wings and tail were in Hannibal’s future for Halloween.  I quickly changed into sweats and sneakers, put Hannibal on his leash, and took him for a run.  When we got back, he flopped on his bed by the hearth after a noisy drink of water.  Dean was seated on the floor nearby with the guitar in his lap and one of the lesson books in his hands.  The amp and stand were positioned near the stereo equipment, and Astrid was batting some bits of paper and bubble wrap around.

As soon as I approached, he put the guitar on the stand and the book with the others on top of the amp.  He picked the kitten up and plopped her on the dog’s back, then pushed me in the direction of the sofa.  Once I was seated, he dropped his robe to the floor and straddled my lap.

_Everything you’ve done for me has been so incredible, sweetheart,_ he murmured as he put his arms around my shoulders and kissed me deeply.  _Sometimes I dunno what I’ve done to deserve you._

I slid my hands up his broad back and returned his kisses just as passionately.  _You’re worth so much more than this, baby.  You’ve dedicated your whole life to taking care of everyone but yourself—the people we saved, our friends, Dad, and especially me.  You’ve given up everything to save complete strangers, save the world, save_ me _without expecting any reward.  What I’m doing now is a drop in the bucket compared to what I owe you._

He pulled his head back and caught my face between his hands.  _You don’t owe me anything, Sammy.  You’re the most important thing in my life, and there ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you.  And we’re_ partners _.  You’ve saved me plenty of times too, and I wasn’t helping those people and stopping that world-ending shit all on my fucking own.  You need to give yourself more credit, little brother._

My husband kissed me again and slipped his hands under my damp t-shirt to run them across my chest and toy with my nipples.  His lips migrated along my jaw to my neck, where he buried his nose behind my ear and sniffed appreciatively.

_Mmm, love how you smell,_ he said and licked the drying sweat there.

_Freak,_ I responded affectionately.

I meanwhile caressed my hands down his smooth back and over his curved ass.  He sat back as I kneaded his firm buttocks, and I leaned forward to suckle one of his pink nipples.  He arched his back and fisted one hand in my hair as I alternated between each tender nub.  His other hand dropped down to my lap and pushed the waistbands of my sweatpants and boxers down to free my cock. 

He stroked it a few times and then lifted himself up and sank down, enfolding me in his tight heat.  I moaned around the sensitive peak of his nipple, wrapped my hands around his waist, and thrust into his wet passage forcefully.  He gripped my shoulders and rode me just as enthusiastically, rising up and slamming down on my member in time with my motions.  He gasped and cursed as I continued to worry at his chest and then cried out a few minutes later, his seed shooting onto my t-shirt and his inner walls clenching around my shaft.  I groaned and climaxed moments later.

After pushing my pants and boxers down further and kicking them off, I lifted my purring lover up and carried him into our bedroom.  I laid him down on the bed but remained standing, still sheathed inside his slick channel, and threw off my sticky shirt.  He raised his legs up and rested them on my shoulders while I held onto his hips and began pounding into him.  His velvety passage undulated around my cock as I plunged in and out of him, hitting his prostate repeatedly.  Still overly-responsive from his recent orgasm, he soon shook and shouted his way through a second one.  I kept on surging into him, entranced as always by the physical sensations and emotional responses our lovemaking generated in both of us.  When he started to mewl from overstimulation, I put a hand on his member and jerked it with my thrusts.  Only after he screamed and clamped down hard on my shaft did I let myself go and ejaculated deep inside him.

We both collapsed onto the bed and fell into a satiated snooze for a couple of hours.  Upon waking, we took a leisurely (and eventually loud) shower, dressed, and went to the local diner for lunch.  We then stopped at the pet store to get more things for both Astrid and Hannibal.  Once home, we assembled the two cat trees, one to go by the French doors in the family room and the other by the windows in the study.  I then let Dean play with his stringed and furred gifts while I set up a second litter box in the guest bathroom and a scratching post in our bedroom and replaced both water bowls with a pet fountain.

After a while, I walked over to where he was picking out chords on the guitar, while Hannibal gnawed on his new Kong and Astrid pounced on his tail, and whispered in my brother’s ear, “I’ve got one more thing for your birthday, Dee.  But I need you naked and on the bed for that, okay?”

While he scrambled to obey, I went into the kitchen to prepare.  I walked into our bedroom carrying a tray a few minutes later and found him lying in the center of the bed, watching me excitedly.  I set the table on the nearer nightstand, so he could see the plate with two slices of apple pie, bowl of vanilla ice cream, and two mugs of mulled apple cider, and quickly undressed as well. 

I smiled down at him as I lifted one piece of pie and placed it on his flat belly over his navel, then added a scoop of ice cream over each nipple.  He wriggled a bit at the warmth of the pie and hissed softly at the cold of the ice cream but lay still otherwise.  I took a forkful of the pie, scraped off some of the ice cream, and held it to his lips.  He raised his head and carefully took the dripping morsel off the fork.

_I figured you’d appreciate birthday pie over cake,_ I said as he chewed and swallowed.  _Alice was kind enough to make the pie and cider for us._

_Fuck, Sam!  No complaints here!_ he gasped.

I gave him a sip of the cider and fed him another mouthful of pie and ice cream.  I then put some of the warm, gooey filling in my mouth, bent down, and engulfed his half-erect cock partway down.  His member stiffened and his hands fisted in the sheets as my mouth slid up and down his length.  I swallowed the pie and swirled my tongue around his shaft before pulling off and feeding him more ice cream and pie.  I repeated this, occasionally alternating ice cream in my mouth instead of pie, listening to him sigh and moan, until the first slice was gone.

I licked Dean’s belly and nipples clean before adding the second piece of pie and more scoops of ice cream.  I filled my mouth with pie again and leaned down to give him an open-mouthed kiss.  Our tongues tangled together as the warm apples and spices mingled between our mouths.  We both swallowed, and I resumed going between feeding him and giving him a confection-filled blowjob.  He managed to last about three-quarters of the way through the second slice before groaning and cumming in my mouth.  As he panted in recovery, I swallowed and licked his sticky cock clean while hastily jacking myself off.  I fed him the remainder of the dessert and licked the rest of him clean too, then stretched out on the bed beside him.

_That was awesome, Sammy!  This whole weekend has been awesome!_ he declared.  _Thanks, man._

_You’re welcome, Dee.  Happy birthday, big brother!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the places the boys visit in the first half of the chapter are real locations in Eugene. I have never been there myself, so everything described is based on Google-fu and my imagination. In particular, I took creative license with the Agate Alley Lab restaurant as it's no longer open, so the only info I could find was through reviews. 
> 
> As for the gifts, my headcanon is that Dean actually sings quite well (because Jensen's voice is amazing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0DKb6pXt24), and the off-key singing in the car we see is just to annoy Sam. Plus the image of Dean rocking out with an electric guitar is HOT! And since they already have a dog, I had to add a kitty to the family too. The question now is, is Astrid just a normal cat? After all, we don't know who the "sneaky neighbor cat" was. ;P
> 
> My surgery on Tuesday went well with no complications, and I was back home within a few hours. I was groggy and lightheaded from the anesthesia on the first day, and my breast is still sore, but nothing that can't be managed with cold packs and ibuprofen. The incision has to heal first, so chemo won't start for at least another 4 weeks. So my updating schedule should be back to normal for a while, and we'll just have to see if the chemo treatments affect my ability to keep writing or not. In the meantime, constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take a case right before Valentine's Day . . .

“I found us a case,” Dean announced when I got home one evening.

“What’ve you got?” I asked as I sat at the breakfast bar and watched him fill two bowls from the large pots on the stove.

“ _Coq a vin_ ,” he said in response to my questioning glance as he set a bowl of braised chicken, mushrooms, onions, carrots, and celery over egg noodles in front of me.  He then continued, “People have been disappearing during the winter up on a mountain at a fancy resort in Darby, Montana since the early ‘seventies.  The victims all went missing on snowy nights, and the few bodies that’ve been found were frozen solid.  Usually only one or two people vanish every coupla years, but this winter there’ve been seven victims already.

“The owners and managers of the resort, Triple Creek Ranch, are in a panic ‘cause people are cancelling reservations over this.  They got no fucking clue what’s going on—they think it’s a bear or some stupid shit like that.  But witnesses over the years have reported seeing a tall, beautiful young Japanese woman with long white hair, violet eyes, pale skin, and blue lips, dressed in a lightweight white kimono, in the area where the meat popsicles turn up.  I looked up the lore on _yokai_ and _oni_ , and it looks like we’re dealing with a _yuki-onna_.”

I gave my husband an impressed look.  People often took in Dean’s colloquial manner of speaking, skill with manual and mechanical things, and professed lack of interest in intellectual pursuits and assumed that he was the less intelligent of the two of us.  They tended to forget that he was just as versed in lore as I was, and that just because he didn’t like research didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it.

“So what’s a Japanese spirit doing in the Rocky Mountains?  And why the sudden increase in body count?” I wondered.

“I checked into that too.  Seems a Japanese couple moved into a cabin high up on that mountain right after World War II,” he replied.  “Lived there quietly for years until the old man died of cancer in the late ‘sixties.  His wife stayed on by herself until a huge fucking snowstorm hit in the winter of ‘seventy-two.  When the people from town were finally able to dig out the area, they found her frozen to death near the cabin.  They buried her there, and the first _yuki-onna_ sighting was a coupla years later.

“As for the ramp-up in vics lately, it turns out that the resort wanted to expand and started digging up the area where the old couple’s cabin used to be.  I figure the dumbasses musta disturbed her grave and pissed her off, so now she’s on a goddamn killing spree.  So we gotta find the grave and salt ‘n burn her bones.”

“That’s right—according to the lore, the _yuki-onna_ is basically just a type of ghost,” I said.  “Do we know where the grave site is?”

“The exact location of her grave ain’t recorded anywhere, but the location of the cabin is.  Plus we know where the developers dug around, so it’s gotta be around there,” he answered.  “It shouldn’t take too long to find the grave using EMF.  And as long as it’s still daylight, the spirit shouldn’t come after us ‘til we start digging.”

“Sounds great, dude!  I don’t have any papers or tests due for a couple of weeks, so taking a few days off shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It gets even better, man.  Ya know how I said the people running the resort are fucking desperate to get this taken care of ASAP?  Well, when I told the manager that we specialized in ‘unusual’ cases like this, he insisted on giving us a reward.  Since I’d mentioned you were my husband as well as my partner, and since V-Day is just around the corner, the resort is offering us one of their romantic getaway packages free of charge.  It’s four nights in one of their luxury cabins, with meals, drinks, and activities included.  Whaddya think of that?”  He grinned enthusiastically.

I never gave much thought before to what Dean used to refer to as “unattached drifter Christmas,” other than momentary disgust at his horndog behavior.  Jess didn’t care for the holiday, and after her death there were more important things to worry about.  I was embarrassed now though—this would be our first Valentine’s Day together, and I’d completely forgotten about it.

“I’m so sorry, Dee,” I said miserably.  “I totally didn’t think about doing anything this year.”

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo.  I wasn’t sure if I should make a big deal ‘bout it myself,” he reassured me.  “Then this fell in our lap, so it all worked out.  I figure we’ll drive to the resort on Friday, and then Saturday do the interviews and search for the grave.  If we find it quickly, we’ll have a coupla days left to enjoy ourselves before heading home on Tuesday.”

“What about the furry kids?” I asked.

“I’m gonna ask Myra if she’ll house-sit while we’re gone.  She loves animals but can’t get a cat or dog of her own ‘cause Anne’s allergic to everything.  She’ll be great with Hannibal and Astrid,” my brother replied.

That settled, I let my professors know that I would be gone for at least three days so that I could get the lecture notes and reading assignments in advance, as well as prepare materials and find a substitute for my TA class.  Dean talked to Collin about being out for the same amount of time and to Myra, who was more than happy to watch our pets.

On Friday, we left early in the morning and arrived at the Triple Creek Ranch that evening.  After conferring briefly with the manager, we were directed a little further up the mountain to the Big Sky cabin, which was the only cabin on this side of the resort.  We parked the Impala in front, walked up onto the wraparound deck, and entered the cabin.

Inside was the living room, which had a wet bar with a mini-fridge and Keurig machine and a desk built along two of the walls, and a sofa, armchair, and coffee table arranged in front of a wood-burning fireplace.  A small table and two chairs under a large TV stood in the opening between the living room and bedroom.  The bedroom contained a king-sized bed, nightstands, and dresser and led into the bathroom, which housed separate sinks and toilets to either side of a double steam shower more than big enough for the two of us.  Sliding doors in the living room and bedroom opened onto the main part of the deck, which had an outdoor dining set, lounge chairs, and a hot tub.  The décor was meant to look rustic, with log walls, heavy wood furniture, and Western art.

We brought our bags into the bedroom and unpacked a little.  I then went into the bathroom to wash up.  When I came out, Dean wandered in from the living room, chewing on something.

“Hey man, check these out!”  He held a chocolate bonbon to my lips, which I bit into.  “There’s a whole plate of these and a bottle of champagne as part of the package, I guess.  I put ‘em in the fridge until later.  The bar is totally stocked and also has cookies and fruit and shit if we get the munchies.”

Once he’d cleaned up as well, we walked down to the Main Lodge for dinner.  The food in the Dining Room as nearly as good as what we’d had on our honeymoon—an appetizer course of grilled prawns, followed by Caesar salads, then salmon for me and ribeye for him, and finished with _panna cotta_ for dessert.  Afterward, we sought out the manager again.

Walter Li, a portly and normally genial man who now looked haggard, shook our hands and led us into his office.  “Agent Clarke, Agent Taylor, thank you so much for coming so quickly!  We simply _can’t_ afford for another of our guests to . . . get hurt.  And we’re due for another snowfall in three days!  We were originally hoping it was a rabid bear or something similar, but the FBI wouldn’t be involved if these were just wild animal attacks, right?”

“No, given the lack of wounds on any of the recovered bodies, it’s highly unlikely that an animal is the culprit,” Dean said.  “One of your employees and a few guests have reported seeing a young woman in the area of the disappearances, correct?  Are any of those guests here?”

“One of them, Mr. Warrington, is still on site,” Li responded anxiously.  “But the resort doesn’t want any of our guests alarmed any further, and—”

“We understand your concerns and will do our best to be discreet,” I interrupted smoothly.  “But it’s imperative that we locate this young woman.  She may be a key witness or even involved somehow.  So we’ll need to interview your employee and Mr. Warrington first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

“We’ll also need to go up the mountain to investigate the locations where the victims were last seen,” Dean continued.  “Given the conditions up there, we’d appreciate any assistance you can give us.”

“We can provide snowmobiles that can take you most of the way up and then snowshoes to travel the rest of the distance,” the manager said.  “If you need someone to guide you, I can send one of our activities coordinators with you too.”

“That won’t be necessary.  We don’t want to worry about their safety or have them inadvertently contaminate a crime scene.  I understand there’s no cell service here though, so do you have long-range walkie-talkies in case we need to contact the resort?” I asked.

He nodded.  “Of course.  We’ll give you a set of those tomorrow with the snowmobiles.  Is there anything else you need?”

“We should be good for now, but we’ll let you know if that changes,” Dean replied.

“About this package you’re offering us,” I said.  “The agency normally doesn’t allow us to accept remuneration of any kind, but—”

“But since we have to stay here anyway, we’re very grateful for the gift,” the other hunter finished.

Li waved his hand.  “Think nothing of it!  If you can apprehend whoever’s doing this soon, it’ll be worth far more than that to our business.”

We returned to our cabin, where we checked and packed the gear we’d need the next day.  We were both fairly beat by then, so we called it a night.  We’d save the champagne and chocolates and testing the steam shower together for after the _yuki-onna_ had been dealt with.

***

Our interviews the following morning with Ernest Warrington, a rather pompous rancher from Wyoming, and Consuela Alvarez, one of the activities coordinators, confirmed what we already knew but didn’t provide any new information.  We then loaded up the snowmobiles and took off towards the _yuki-onna_ ’s old cabin.  We were able to make it more than halfway up the mountain before the slope became too rocky for the snowmobiles to traverse.

Dean pulled out a map and spread it on his snowmobile’s seat after we’d parked them.  “Okay, here’s ‘bout where we are now.  The cabin is less than a mile further up, and you can see it’s almost smack dab in the middle of where people have been going missing.  From what I could tell from the plans I looked at, the developers and surveyors dug in this area around the cabin site.  So our grave should be somewhere in there.”  He pointed at each marked spot as he mentioned them. 

“From what Consuela told us, no one’s been up this far in a while, so we’ll have to break our own trail.  Which means it’ll take at least an hour to reach that cabin,” I commented.

“Well, we ain’t getting any closer just standing here, so let’s go!”

As expected, the trek up to the cabin was long and arduous.  The snow was about three feet deep most of the way but got as much as five feet deep in places.  We used our telekinesis and pyrokinesis to soften and move some of the drifts out of the way, but it still wasn’t an easy trip by any means.  We had to stop and rest for several minutes once we reached our destination.

Once I’d managed to catch my breath, I took a look around.  All that was left of the old cabin, which was suspiciously _not_ buried like everything else, were the foundations, chimney, and a couple partial walls.  The area around it was mostly clear of trees, with a few orange-tipped surveying stakes poking out of the snow.

I tapped my brother on the shoulder.  “Notice the cabin?”

“Huh!  It ain’t buried in three feet of white shit!  Yeah, _that_ ain’t fucking weird at all,” he said sarcastically.

“It may make finding her grave easier, if it’s also clear of snow,” I pointed out.

We pulled out our EMF readers and fanned out, scanning the clearing and looking for other anomalies in the snow.  We each carried a shotgun loaded with rock salt and an iron poker as well—just because the _yuki-onna_ attacked at night didn’t mean she couldn’t manifest during the day, and ghosts were notoriously tenacious about guarding their burial sites. 

After exploring the area for about ten minutes, Dean gave a shout and waved me over.  He was standing next one of the few trees in the clearing, one that was fairly close to the wood’s edge.  At the tree’s base, between two large roots, was a three-by-six-foot area free of snow.  Both of our EMF meters went crazy when passed over this patch of ground.

“Yahtzee!  I think it’s pretty obvious we hit paydirt here,” he said.  “We don’t hafta dig away the snow, but the ground’s still frozen solid.”

I responded, “I should be able to take care of that.”

I crouched down, held my hands over the grave, and concentrated.  After a couple of minutes, the dirt over the grave began to steam.  Once I thawed the ground to a foot or so deep, we took turns digging, using both muscles and powers.  I thawed the soil again, we dug some more, and then rinsed, lathered, and repeated.  We’d gotten about four feet down when the temperature suddenly plummeted.  As I watched my breath condense in the bottom of the pit, I heard the other hunter cry out a warning, followed by a blast from his sawed-off shotgun.

“I think she’s more than a little pissed, man!” the other hunter called down to me.  “If she gets past me, don’t let her touch you!”

“Don’t worry—I remember the lore.  You be careful up there too!” I replied.

We continued to burrow down, trading places about every foot’s depth.  I was standing guard up top while he was digging below when the air around me abruptly turned freezing cold.  I spun around and found myself almost nose-to-nose with the _yuki-onna_.  Her white hair flew wildly around her head, her violet eyes glowed heatedly, and her lovely features contorted with rage as she reached toward me.

I leapt back out of reach and brought up my shotgun, then swore viciously as it jammed.  Before I could switch to the poker, I went flying through the air.  I connected headfirst with a nearby stump and groaned loudly.  I groggily tried to sit up and felt wetness when I put a hand to the back of my head.

I vaguely heard my name shouted and another shotgun blast shortly after, followed by the whoosh of a large fire igniting and an unearthly scream.  My husband then rushed over to me, his face pale and worried.  He knelt beside me and propped me up against his legs, then carefully checked the wound.

 _I gotcha, baby boy.  Gimme a second, and this hard head of yours will be good as new,_ he murmured.  Warmth spread out under his hands as he finished speaking, and the pain in my skull ceased, the ringing in my ears silenced, and the fog over my thoughts cleared.

I sat up on my own and shook my head.  _God, that’s_ so _much better!  Thanks, Dee.  I take it you fried the bitch?_

 _Yep, she’s extra crispy now.  You rest here until all the Tweety-birds go away, and I’ll fill in the grave._   He stood, rested his hand on the top of my head for a moment, and then walked back to the burning hole.

From how little time it took for him to return, I deduced that he pushed the dirt back into the pit via his TK.  He handed me a metal thermos, which was full of hot coffee.  While I gratefully gulped some down, he opened the insulated lunch bag the resort staff had given us, sniffed the first sandwich he pulled out, and passed it to me.  I unwrapped and bit into the still-warm gourmet cheesesteak, while Dean happily devoured his ahi tuna burger.

“Check it out, dude—it ain’t that late in the afternoon yet, and we’ve already ganked the fugly.  We should actually be able to have some fun today!”  He paused and eyed a smear of sauce on his glove.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed his wrist before he could lick it, and rubbed snow on the stain.  “We still have to get our sore asses down this crappy mountain.”

“Yeah, but going down is _always_ easier, sweetheart.”  He waggled his eyebrows before continuing, “We already broke a trail, so we can follow it back.  And then soak those sore asses in our private hot tub!”

***

The thought of that hot soak sustained me on the admittedly easier trip back down to the resort.  At the Main Lodge, we returned the gear we’d been loaned, and Dean spun a tale to Mr. Li of chasing the perp until he fell into a deep ravine, where the body couldn’t be retrieved until spring, if at all.  We then hoisted our bags and trudged back to our cabin.

Once inside, we tugged off our outer layers and piled them in front of the fireplace to dry out.  He asked, _Steam shower or hot tub first?_

 _Shower,_ I replied firmly.  _We both worked up a sweat under those snowsuits.  And you know grave dirt gets_ everywhere _, no matter how much we’re wearing._

 _Either works for me, man._   He headed towards the bathroom and began undressing on the way, leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind him.

Outwardly I bitched at picking up after him, but inwardly I enjoyed the view as broad shoulders, strong back, pert ass, and long legs were each revealed in turn.  By the time I divested myself of my clothes, my brother was standing in the middle of the shower with his face tipped up and eyes closed, getting hit by streams of hot water from either side.  I paused to admire the sight of all that fair, freckled skin and lean muscle covered in glistening droplets, before he tilted his head down and opened those wide green eyes.

“Warm up now.  Stare later,” Dean ordered as he grasped my hand and hauled me into the shower.

I moaned after he tugged me under one of the showerheads.  “ _Fuck_ , I thought I’d never be warm again after this hunt!”

“This is pretty awesome, ain’t it?” he said as he squirted shampoo into his hand and pulled my head toward him.

I leaned into his hands as he massaged my scalp and ended up resting my head on his shoulder as his hands drifted down to caress my back.  _You can stop doing that, like, never . . ._

 _Feels good, huh?_ my big brother crooned.  _You scared me there, kiddo.  Not that I ever like seeing you take a hit, but head shots are the worst.  Makes me wonder sometimes if this shit is worth putting you at risk._

 _I’m fine now, Dee.  You can’t think like that.  All the people we save make the danger worthwhile.  And you can’t protect me from_ everything _—I could get hit by a bus or something equally random._

He sighed.  _Yeah, I know.  There ain’t enough good hunters out there for us to hang up the towel.  And I get that I can heal anything serious either of us takes.  But it still don’t make it any easier seeing you get hurt._

I decided to distract him with something pleasant and slotted my mouth against his.  He parted his lips, allowing me to slip my tongue inside and deepen the kiss.  I grabbed the bar of soap off the shelf and rubbed it over our torsos while still continuing to kiss him ardently.  Once we were both covered in suds, I wrapped my hands around our shafts and began leisurely jerking us off together.  He groaned into my mouth and hung onto my shoulders for support as my strokes sped up.  We were both breathing heavily while my hands slid rapidly up and down our hard members.  His fingers suddenly dug into my skin and his cum spilled over my fingers.  This caused me to climax as well, my semen mixing with his.

After rinsing my hands off, I nudged him over until he sat down on the wooden bench running along the back of the stall.  I turned to the controls and switched them to the steam settings.  As the shower filled with hot vapor, I pivoted and found my lover standing facing the back wall with his legs spread, his hands braced against the seat and his back arched in invitation.  I stepped up and rubbed the curve of his ass before sinking my cock into his waiting hole.

I kept my thrusts long and slow and ran my hands over the smooth skin of his backs and sides.  He hummed happily as I filled him and pushed his hips back against mine, his taut passage squeezing around my shaft.  We moved in sync like this for a while, sighing in pleasure and feeding off each other’s passion. 

Eventually I reached around and began stroking his rigid member.  He cried out and snapped his pelvis back forcefully, encouraging me to plunge into him vigorously.  He was soon screaming in ecstasy, thrusting forward into my hand and back onto my cock, while I pounded into his hot channel.  Steam billowed around us as the shower echoed with our shouts and sounds of our bodies striking together.  I came hard enough that my vision spun for a moment and felt him quaking through his orgasm beneath me.

I put my arms around his waist and spun us as I collapsed onto the bench with my husband sprawled in my lap.  His purr rumbled loudly against my chest, and his inner walls trembled around my shaft.  I gently caressed his chest and stomach and pressed kisses down the side of his neck.

 _I’m never leaving you, love—no matter what,_ I promised _.  God made us soulmates, which means we’ll be together forever, in this life and whatever comes after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do something for the boys' first Valentine's Day together, and I decided to start with a simple case to justify them going to another fancy resort. Once again, Triple Creek Ranch is a real resort (https://www.triplecreekranch.com/), and everything described here is solely based on Google-fu and imagination. The next chapter will continue the romantic fun and smut. :)
> 
> One thing that I HATE is when writers (show or fan fic) make Dean appear dumb, especially when Sam--who should know better--appears shocked when his brother says something "smart." Dean may be less educated, but he ain't stupid--a moron doesn't become one of the best hunters in the country. I firmly believe that he's just as intelligent as Sam, simply in different ways. So I felt it was important that he be the one to uncover the lore for this case.
> 
> I'm only a couple pages away from finishing this story. The updating schedule will remain the same. Once this fic is done, I'll start on Part 5 of the series so that I can have a few chapters ready by the time Chapter 25 of this story is posted. I'm also working on a few other stories, since I've found it's helpful to turn to something else for a little while whenever I get a bit blocked on the main story, and I'll probably start posting one of them sometime in the next few weeks too. In the meantime, constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy kitty. :)
> 
> BTW, I started a SPN-Dean-Wincest blog on Tumblr a couple weeks ago. It's https://samisadeangirl.tumblr.com/ if you'd like to check it out.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys celebrate Valentine's Day at the resort . . .

I awoke the next morning to sensation of my cock being encased in slick, tight heat and opened my eyes.  Dean grinned down at me from where he was straddling my pelvis, his hands resting on my abdomen.  I gasped as he rolled his narrow hips and constricted his velvety passage around my member.

 _I see you decided to skip the foreplay this morning and go straight to the main event,_ I managed to get out.

He shrugged nonchalantly and continued to rock above me.  _It ain’t_ my _fault if you were sporting an absolutely gorgeous hard-on just now!  You know I ain’t gonna resist shit like_ that _.  You want me to stop?_

 _Fuck, no!_   I exclaimed.  I tried to bring my hands down and realized that they were tied to the bedposts with long silk scarves.

_Just noticed that, Captain Oblivious?_

_Hey, I’ve been a little distracted!_   I then thought of what happened on one of the previous occasions when I’d been the one tied up and said plaintively, _Please tell me you’re_ not _going to spend the next two hours torturing me!_

 _Would I do that, baby?_   His grin then morphed into a wicked smirk, and he lifted himself up enough to let me see the leather cock ring strapped around the base of my shaft.

I tugged futilely on my restraints and dropped my head to the pillow.  _I hate you._

 _Poor, poor Sammy!_ he mocked as he leaned down to kiss me.

I initially held myself still but soon decided there was no point and kissed back.  I started thrusting urgently up into his wet channel, hoping that the sooner I made my brother cum, the sooner he’d remove the damn cock ring.  He made a surprised noise at my sudden enthusiasm but quickly got with the program, raising and lowering himself on my cock just as eagerly.  He moaned as he angled his hips so that each stroke rubbed his prostrate.

 _Mmm, you feel_ so _goddamn good!  I’m gonna see how many times you can get me off in one go!_

 _I take back everything nice I ever said before.  You are an evil, evil monster!_ I complained.

He snickered.  _Sticks and stones, little brother._

He slid his hands up his chest to play with his nipples as he rode me fervently.  Despite my (mostly feigned) irritation, I had to admit the other man looked amazing above me.  The morning sunlight made his dark gold hair gleam, his large green eyes glowed between his long, fluttering lashes, his plush lips looked even more sinful caught in his white teeth, and his fair skin flushed with healthy color.  I watched his dusky member bob and drip with our movements and wished I could touch it.

Just as I thought about it, he dropped a hand to that beautiful cock and jacked it.  It took only a few strokes before he groaned and ejaculated onto my belly, while his hot passage clenched firmly around my shaft.  This didn’t slow him down at all—in fact, he braced his hands on my pectoral muscles and moved over me even more vigorously.  I groaned when he began pinching my nipples while shoving himself up and then slamming down on my member.  I drove up into him just as forcefully and felt the bed sway beneath us.

 _Sonofabitch, baby boy, do you have any idea how fucking_ awesome _your cock feels inside me?  There ain’t nothing like it!_ he panted.

 _Being in you is pretty damn spectacular too, Dee!  I love how hot and snug and moist you always are, and how deep and hard you can take me,_ I replied.  _Though this would feel even_ better _if I could cum!_

_Patience, kiddo—we’ll get you there._

Dean suddenly ground his hips against mine with a loud cry and shot all over my stomach again, while his inner muscles clamped down.  He sat still for a long moment, and when his motions resumed they were languid and steady.  He bent down once more and fitted his lips to mine, licking at them until I opened my mouth.  He cradled my head in his hands and kissed me deeply, all the while sliding up and down my length and flexing his taut channel around me at a leisurely pace. 

As much as I always loved the feeling of his damp, heated tightness wrapped around my cock, the stimulation eventually started to get perilously close to overwhelming my senses.  I whined, _Come on, man!  I can’t take much more!_

He gave me one more kiss, sat up, and smiled tenderly.  _Okay, Sammy._

He stretched over my head and tugged the knots around my wrists loose.  The moment I was free, I flipped us both over and began hammering into him, pounding repeatedly into his pleasure spot.  As he screamed my name and shuddered through his third orgasm, he reached between us and unsnapped the cock ring.  I immediately climaxed so violently that I passed out.

I was on my back and already cleaned up when I came to.  Dean was lying next to me, his head propped up on one hand as he gave me an amused look.  “How’re you feeling, dude?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before!  I hope you don’t expect me to do anything else today, because I’m pretty sure you made me shoot my brains out through my damn cock,” I informed him.

“You’re welcome!  And here, this should help you find your lost brain cells,” he said smugly as he handed me a mug of coffee.

I felt much more coherent after being properly caffeinated.  We showered—with a little more fooling around, because anyone who could resist my husband covered in water _had_ to be dead—dressed, and made our way to the Main Lodge for breakfast.  Once we’d fortified ourselves with omelets, pancakes, and more coffee, we walked up to the Rider’s Roost for dogsledding lessons.  The instructor showed us how to harness and hitch the dogs to the tandem sled, how to command them to stop or go, and how to maneuver on the trail.  We then took turns driving the sled over the trails around the resort while the other rode in front, with the instructor accompanying us in case we needed assistance.

After a few hours of mushing around, we returned the dogs and sled and retired to the Roost for lunch.  Over bowls of hearty chili and buttery cornbread, we enthused over the experience.

“That was awesome, man!  D’ya think we can hitch Hannibal up to a small sled when he’s bigger?” Dean wondered.

“I don’t know, but I’ll pay good money to watch you try!” I replied.

We then took a hospitality Jeep over to the archery range, where we wowed the other guests with our skill.  Though we tended to use crossbows more during hunting, we were quite familiar with recurve and long bows as well.  It was nice to use the skill for recreational purposes for a change, and we both enjoyed showing off for the civilians.

Our next stop was back at the Rider’s Roost, this time for sledding.  This again was something we hadn’t been able to indulge much in as children.  There were a few times where our motel was close enough to a decent-sized hill, so we’d sneak out after homework and training were done.  We could never afford an actual sled of course, so we made do with trashcan lids, plywood boards, or whatever else we could scrounge up.  Now we got to spend a good couple of hours racing down the slopes, whooping and laughing like little kids again.

We returned to our cabin to clean up and change before going back to the Main Lodge.  We first went to the Rooftop Lounge for cocktail hour, where we sipped whiskey and scotch and socialized with some of the guests and staff.  Then it was on to the Dining Room for a dinner of wild mushroom-gorgonzola dip with toast points, spinach salad, grilled pork chops for him and _sous vide_ duck breast for me, and ice cream and sorbet for dessert.

We were met at our cabin by two of the staff masseuses, who set up their tables in the living room for the couple’s massage that came with our getaway package.  We unwound as we were both given full-body rubdowns for an hour, leaving us feeling loose and boneless.  Once the masseuses left, we undressed completely, threw on bathrobes, and took the bottle of champagne, a couple of glasses, and the chocolates out to the hot tub.

After hurriedly dropping the robes and hopping into the tubs, we relaxed in the hot, bubbling water.  Dean groaned contentedly and asked, “Think we can get one of these eventually?”

“Maybe . . . or get a pool with an attached Jacuzzi.  It’d be more work to maintain, but we have plenty of space in the backyard,” I replied after taking a sip of champagne.  “It’s certainly something to consider.”

“Man, this is the life!  Think ‘bout the people who come to places like this on a regular basis though.  I can barely imagine how loaded some of these dudes must be!”

“Feeling a little envious, Dean?”

He shook his head.  “Nah, I’m _completely_ satisfied with our life, baby.  Guess it just feels kinda weird being here sometimes.  I mean, this time last year, we were happy if the shitty motel room we were in didn’t smell too bad and had more than lukewarm water in the shower.  And now look at us—drinking champagne at some fancy-ass ski resort!”

 _More important, we got an awesome home, two fucking adorable pets, jobs we both really like, you’re back in school, and we’re still saving people.  And above everything else, we got each other.  When you compare the past few months, hell, the past year, to the rest of our crappy lives before . . . you gotta admit it’s almost unbelievable,_ he continued.

 _I get these dreams every once in a while . . . more like nightmares, where none of this is real—either it never happened at all or was only in a djinn wish-coma or something.  Then I wake up, see you beside me in our bed, and I’m_ so _fucking relieved._

I moved closer and put my arms around my husband.  _Just bad dreams, Dee.  This is all really real, and we_ earned _it.  More importantly, I’m not going anywhere—we’re together forever._

I kissed him reassuringly, and he leaned against me and sighed.  Before he could say anything else, I tugged him onto my lap and ran my hands down his body, caressing the sleek muscles of his chest and abdomen.  He hummed into my mouth happily and then kissed his way along my jaw.

 _You trying to distract me?_ he murmured while nibbling on my ear.

My hands moved to his back and rubbed slowly.  _Maybe.  Is it working?_

Dean kissed me in response.  I pulled him around so that his back rested against my chest and slid my hands up to his pecs.  I bent my head to suck at the base of his neck and tugged at the tender peaks of his nipples.  He moaned and arched his back, grinding his firm ass against my groin.  He reached behind him to stroke my stiffening cock, his callused fingers sliding over my glans and shaft. 

I soon dropped my hands to his hips to lift him up and let him sink down on my length, his tight passage stretching around me.  He made a pleased purring sound when I bottomed out and gently squeezed his inner walls.  I tightened my grip and started thrusting up into his heated channel, groaning at the always amazing sensation of being surrounded by the most important person in my life, by his body, his thoughts, his emotions, his _soul_. 

 _Love you so much, Dee!_ I whispered as I surged into him.  _Love being with you like this!  I’m always going to be with you—you know that right?_

 _God, the things your cock does to me!_ he panted.  _I know, Sammy—know they're just dreams.  And I love you too!_

He braced his hands on my thighs and began rising up and sliding down, keening each time my member grazed his prostate.  We moved together for a long time, our bodies and minds in sync as the water jetted around us.  Eventually I wrapped one arm around my lover's waist to hold him still while I continued to pound against his sweet spot, and my other hand curled around his cock and jerked it rapidly.  He cried out loudly as his passage contracted and his cum shot into the water.  I plunged into him a few times more before climaxing as well.

Dean slumped against me, breathing heavily.  _Dude, that was awesome!  But we should probably get outta here before we turn into raisins._

_Alright.  I just hope you’re not tired, because I’m not done with you yet!_

***

After exchanging long, slow blowjobs upon waking the next morning, we showered, dressed, and had French toast, eggs, and bacon at the Main Lodge.  Then it was on to the Riding Roost, where we tried _skijoring_ , in which we were each pulled along on skis behind a mounted horse along forest trails around the resort.  It reminded me both of the time some friends took me cross-country skiing over winter break at Stanford and of when Dean and I went wakeboarding on our honeymoon.  And the way he eyed the horses made me resolve to look into riding lessons near our home in the spring.

Upon our return to the Main Lodge, we had gourmet burgers in the Dining Room for lunch.  Dean then disappeared into the kitchen for a dessert workshop taught by the staff pastry chef.  Left to my own devices for the next three hours, I went to the Activities Center to relax and play with the wooden jigsaw puzzles and board games there.  Some of the puzzles turned out to be more challenging than I expected, and I barely noticed the time passing by before he found me after the end of the workshop.

We briefly returned to our cabin to wash up and change, my husband chattering animatedly the whole time about what he’d learned, before going back to the Dining Room for a seven-course meal at the chef’s table.  Each course—an _amusé bouche_ of mushroom tartare on crispy wontons with spicy peanut dressing on rice noodles; a greens salad with watermelon, feta cheese, sunflower seeds, candied pecan dust, and buttermilk dressing; shrimp with purple cauliflower, crab, _uni_ sauce, caviar, and chives; lamb meatballs with dill Havarti, cucumber, and tomato confit; seared duck breast with cinnamon pear jam, leeks, Andouille sausage, and goat cheese; pan-roasted flat iron steak with butternut squash puree, wax beans, chanterelles, bleu cheese, potato leek broth, and mustard veal stock reduction; and cannoli-stuffed beignets with dark chocolate sauce, pomegranate seeds, and powdered sugar—was paired with a different premium wine, and the food was easily on par with what we’d had at Chavah Island.  We also tried the desserts Dean had made at the workshop, which consisted of Godiva white chocolate raspberry ice cream, mocha crème caramel with cinnamon crème anglaise, and dark chocolate truffles with Chambord sauce, and he blushed at my enthusiastic compliments.

We then went up to the Rooftop Lounge for after-dinner cocktails.  After the sweets we’d just had, my brother apparently was in the mood for port and dessert wines.  As he crouched in front of one of the wine racks, his pants rode down enough that I caught a flash of bright pink.  I moved closer to get a better look and realized I was seeing the back of a hot pink satin thong with a red heart print.

The blood rushed from my head and my mouth simultaneously started to water at the thought of what the rest of the thong looked like.  I grabbed his arm and pulled him up, growling, “We need to head back to our cabin _now_!”

He threw me a confused glance, which cleared when I stuck my hand under the waistband of his pants and fingered the elastic of the panties.  He grinned and said mischievously, “Oh, guess you found _those_!  Sure you can’t wait a bit, man?  We ain’t finished our drinks yet, ya know.”

I growled again at his teasing and tugged him out of the Lounge.  Once we were outside, Dean yanked his hand free and ran off with a laugh, prompting me to give chase.  I caught up to him as he was trying to unlock the door to our cabin, pushed him against the log wall, and claimed his mouth fiercely.  After a couple minutes of deep kissing, he pushed me off long enough to get the door open.  I pounced on him again, and we tumbled into the cabin.

Once we were both inside, I kicked the door closed and yanked off everything else he was wearing, ripping a seam or two and sending a couple buttons flying in the process.  I then paused for a moment to admire the sight of my lover lying on top of his discarded clothes on the tiled floor of the living room, now wearing nothing but the heart-print thong.  He in turn watched me with an amused smile on his lips as I scrambled out of my own clothes.

As soon as I was naked, I threw myself back on top of him, locking lips ardently and stroking his hard cock through the satin material.  He moaned into my mouth and pushed against my hand, and the fabric over his glans was soon damp from pre-ejaculate fluid.  I mouthed my way down his neck and chest to nip and suck at his nipples, while my hand shifted down to rub the smooth cloth over his perineum and entrance until that too was moist from slick.  He arched under my mouth, making it even easier to suckle at each of the pink peaks.

I slid down even further until I could lick along the length of his shaft, soaking the front of the thong with my spit, while he twined his fingers in my hair and tugged urgently.  I then pushed his legs apart and shoved the wet fabric between them aside, revealing his puckered hole.  I bent down and thrust my tongue inside, licking at his silky membranes and tasting his salty fluids.

As I lapped at his entrance and listened to him mewl with pleasure, I demanded, _Were you wearing these panties all day?  Feeling this satiny material rub over your cock while you were on the skis or in the workshop?_

 _N—no, only since when we ch—changed before dinner,_ he panted.

I sat up and pressed his legs up and back even further, until his mostly bare buttocks were up in the air.  I gave each cheek a light slap and said, _But it makes your ass look_ so _good, baby!_

I rose up on my knees and angled his pelvis until I could sink into his wet hole.  He gasped and threw his legs over my shoulders as I bent him in half and continued to push in until I was fully seated in his taut passage.  He moaned and flexed his inner walls with each thrust as I began pounding relentlessly into him.

 _Take it—take my cock!_ I growled as I snapped my hips into his ass.  _Drive me so crazy with how hot you are!_

 _Yeah Sammy, give it to me!_ Ahh, _love your cock!_ he cried in response.  _Love you, baby brother!_

It didn’t take long before we were both screaming out our release.  We panted heavily for a moment, and then Dean twisted around until he was on his hands and knees.  He leaned down to rest his forehead on his hands, curved his back, and pushed his ass against me.

 _C’mon Sammy, ride me hard!  Need you to pound my ass,_ he crooned invitingly.

I fitted my hands on his hips over the waistband of the bright pink thong and resumed plunging vigorously into his hot channel.  He hummed in pleasure and rocked back and forth on his knees, impaling himself energetically on my cock.  With his whispered urgings in my head, I continued hammering into his moist depths, feeling his silky walls slide and squeeze around my member as I endeavored to hit his prostrate with each forceful thrust.  He was soon groaning, cursing, and chanting my name as I drove into him insistently, neither of us wanting our twined passion to end.

_God, Dee!  Can never get enough of you!  Do you want more?_

_Fuck yeah, sweetheart!  Gimme all you got!_

I dug my fingers into my husband’s hips and yanked them back hard onto my cock.  Then I proceeded to slam into him over and over, until his hands were scrabbling for purchase and his voice was begging for release.  As his channel clamped down on my shaft in the throes of orgasm, I jerked him back onto me one last time and shot my load.

We both collapsed to the floor, our muscles limp and wrung out.  Dean was sprawled half on top of me, and even his purr sounded tired.

 _Dude, I couldn’t cum again right now even if someone held a gun to my head,_ I gasped.

 _I don’t wanna hear it—I’ll be lucky if I can walk anytime in the next hour!  And the next time you need to go all Tarzan on my ass, how ‘bout you wait ‘til we’re on carpet or something?_ he grumbled.

_Bitch, bitch, bitch.  C’mon, old man, let’s get you to bed._

I staggered to my feet and tugged on his hand until he joined me, then we slowly made our way into the bedroom, leaving our wrecked clothing behind.  We flopped onto the bed and pulled the covers over us, and I arranged him so that his head was resting on my shoulder and his arm was lying across my waist.

 _Better now, love?_ I asked, running my fingers through his soft, sweaty hair.  After he murmured contentedly into my clavicle, I went on, “The dessert workshop you took today got me thinking, Dee.  Have _you_ considered taking classes?”

He shifted his head enough for one green eye to peer up at me.  “You mean college?  What for?  Don’t need it for what I’m doing now, Sammy.”

“And I know you love this job, man.  But you might want more in the future, and I think getting a mechanical engineering degree or something similar could be really beneficial,” I said.  “I mean, you already design and build these amazing gadgets, and a degree could help you make a real career out of it.  Or if you want to stick with automotive work, it could help you improve the business or get into design.”

“I dunno . . . You know I never liked school—that’s always been more your gig.  And how the hell could I get into college when I never finished high school?”

I explained, “Without getting into Dad’s prejudices, you didn’t like school because you were bored with the repetition from moving around so often and with subjects you didn’t see the use of.  College is different though—the curriculum is tailored towards your field of study, and you have more control over the courses.

“And yes, you didn’t graduate high school.  But you do have your GED, and you scored really high on it.  You always did well in the classes you were interested in, like math and science, so I think you’ll do fine in college.”

“Do they have an engineering program at your university?” Dean asked.

“Unfortunately, UO doesn’t have an engineering school.  But I did a little looking online while I was in the Activities Center.  Oregon State University, which is about an hour away from home, has a pretty good one.  If you want to ease into it or save some money, Lane Community College in Eugene offers an associate degree in engineering that’s accepted at any public university in the state, including OSU,” I told him.

“Huh!  I guess it’s something to think ‘bout, as long as they got evening classes.”  He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Community colleges have cooking classes too, right?”

“Usually, yeah.”  I kissed his temple.  _If you decide to do this, I know you’ll kick it in the ass, Dee.  You can do anything you set your mind to._

 _You really think so?  Maybe I’ll look up this community college when we get home._   Dean leaned up to kiss my lips.  _Thanks for thinking of this . . . and for believing in me._

_Always, big brother.  And happy Valentine’s Day!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this mostly smutty chapter for the boys's first V-Day together. The next chapter is pretty smutty too, since it's been nearly six months since Dean's last heat . . .
> 
> To continue off my rant from the previous chapter, I don't think Dean dropped out of school because he's dumb, since he's not. A lot of his poor opinion of school I believe is due to John's influence. John never finished high school himself and probably didn't put a lot of importance to education--his reaction to Sam getting a full ride to an Ivy League school is a telling bit of evidence. I can see Dean not being interested in several subjects because he didn't see them as useful as a hunter. And all the moving around they did likely resulted in a lot of gaps and repetition, which made school even less interesting. But if Dean had had someone encouraging him to do well in school, like Sonny did at the boys' home, his education might've turned out differently. Which is where Sam comes in now, since they've settled down and can take advantage of the various colleges in the area.
> 
> I managed to finally finish writing this story earlier this week and will be starting on the next one in the series soon (giving my brain a few days' rest right now). Updates will continue to be posted Friday evenings for the next few weeks. The posting schedule might change in January if my chemo appointments are on Fridays too--we'll have to see. In the meantime, constructive criticism* is always welcome, and comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.
> 
> *P.S.--I got my first negative comment this week, which was posted on Part 2 of the series. Basically this person was like "I would've like this except for all the gross gay incest sex!" To which I was like, if you don't like Wincest or gay sex in general, why the frack did you read something that was very clearly tagged that way? If you ignore the tags and read something anyways, don't complain to the author afterward about it!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's heat returns, and the boys get an additional surprise . . .

It was about half an hour before my lunch break when my cell phone rang.  I looked at the caller ID and picked up.  “Hey Dean, what’s up?”

“Sammy?  You need to come home.”  His breathing was a little heavy, but his voice didn’t sound distressed.

I frowned.  “Can this wait a little longer?  I’ve got office hours since finals are in a week, and then I’ve got one more class myself.  After that I’ll be free for the rest of the weekend.”

He sighed irritably, and I could almost hear the eye roll.  “Sam, it’s been almost six months since our honeymoon.  I need you _right now_.”

I looked at the calendar for March and did the math.  “Oh.  _Oh!_   Shit!  But you weren’t showing any signs yesterday or this morning!”

“Sorry ‘bout that, man.  I did start feeling kinda antsy yesterday, but I thought that it was just stress from dealing with that douchebag over his Thunderbird rebuild.  And that jumping you after dinner last night was only blowing off steam.”

“Uh, okay.  Let me talk to the professor and call a friend about getting notes for that class.  I’ll be home soon!”  I hung up and left my little cubby.

When I got home, I found Dean lying on our bed, one hand idly fondling his engorged cock, the base of the blue vibrator visible between his sprawled legs.  Astrid was curled up on his chest, and his other hand was rubbing her ears.  As I got closer, I could see his features had taken on a feline cast once again—slit pupils, wide irises, pointed ears, sharp fangs and claws, and dappled hair.  I could also hear the rumbling of his and her purring over the buzzing of the vibe.

“It’s kind of disturbing to see you petting that innocent kitten at the same time that you’re jerking off,” I commented as I started undressing.

“Hey, it wasn’t _my_ idea to have her join me,” he retorted, his eyes moving over me appreciatively.

“Well, she’ll have to move—she’s way too young to be part of a threesome!”  With that, I scooped the little Wegie up and deposited her on her cat bed.

By the time I returned to the bed, my husband had the vibrator out and placed on his nightstand, though his legs remained spread open.  I settled between them and bent down to take his lips, inhaling the rich, heady scent of his heat.

_Were you starting without me, baby?_ I murmured while fingering the slick seeping from his entrance.

_Just warming up.  Playing with the toys ain’t fun without you, Sammy!_   He kissed me back enthusiastically to emphasize his point.

_I don’t know . . . I think I may have to do something to keep you from getting into any more trouble!_

I got up and opened the bag I’d brought into the room with me.  Dean’s eyes widened as I took the padded spreader bar out of its packaging.  I slid the bar under his hips and then fastened the cuffs on each end around his wrists and ankles.

_See you picked up some new goodies on your way home,_ he noted as he tugged on the restraints experimentally.

_Yep.  Are you comfortable—the cuffs fit okay?_   _Same safeword as before, right?_

Once he nodded, I went on, “The rules are, no sounds at all from you except if you need to use your safeword, and no cumming until I say so.  The more noise you make, the longer it’ll take before I let you cum.  And if you cum without permission, then you get punished.” 

“Aw man, this is payback for Valentine’s Day, ain’t it?” he complained.

“Revenge is a dish best served cold, big brother.  And you’re already breaking the rules!”

He opened his mouth to protest indignantly but caught himself when he saw my smirk.  I reached into the bag again, pulled out a pair of vibrating nipple clamps, and loaded the batteries.  He gasped loudly as I attached them to each of his sensitive nubs and turned them on, then glared when I chuckled.

“Dude, if you keep this up, you won’t get to orgasm until dinnertime!” I told him, shaking my head.

I studied my lover for a moment while stroking my member, trying to decide what to do first.  I climbed back onto the bed between his legs, and he shivered under my fingertips as I lightly ran them up his sides.  I leaned down to kiss him, nipping gently at his plush lower lip until he opened his mouth.  As we kissed passionately, I slid a hand down the center of his torso to caress his groin, my fingers drifting over his cock and balls.  He sucked in a deep breath but managed to stay silent as my fingers curled around his shaft and jacked it rapidly.

I then shifted down until I could take his length in his mouth.  He trembled and yanked on the cuffs but didn’t make a sound as I used the experience gained over the past year to give him the best blowjob I could.  As I sucked and swirled my tongue, I looked up to see him biting his lip, his face flushed and strained from the effort to not climax.

I pulled my mouth off his member and sat up, lined up my own cock, and slowly pushed into his dripping hole.  He gave a short whine as I stretched his tight passage and buried myself to the hilt.  I commenced a series of long, steady thrusts, making sure to brush against his prostate with each pass.  He felt amazing, his channel hotter and wetter and his emotions needier and more ardent due to the heat. 

I smiled down at him while he tried to pant quietly and continued to move in and out of him.  I normally preferred our lovemaking fast and hard, but since the goal now was to push my brother to his limits, I maintained an unhurried pace, enjoying how he quivered and contracted around my shaft each time his sweet spot was stimulated.  Eventually my pleasure reached its crest, and I shoved deep inside him as I groaned and came.

I caught my breath for a moment, then lifted his hips up and pushed them back, bending him nearly in half.  I began plunging into his velvety passage and picked up speed until we were rocking the bed.  Dean gritted his teeth, his breath whistling between them, and thrust his pelvis against mine while I pounded into him.  I moaned as his slick walls flexed around me.

_Damn, Dee, you feel so good!  Making love to you is always the best thing ever, but now is unbelievable!_ I told him, surging through his heated depths. 

Feeling his arousal barely held in check eroded my own self-control, and I ejaculated with a shout.  Without withdrawing, I removed the nipple clamps and flipped him over.  I adjusted the cuffs to relieve any strain on his joints, leaving him sprawled on his belly with his knees splayed and ankles pulled up.  Then I stretched out over him and rolled my hips, sliding in and out of his sopping channel.  I hadn’t factored in the added stimulus of his over-sensitive nipples and cock rubbing against the sheets in this position however, and the other man suddenly climaxed with a loud wail.

I pulled out with a disappointed sigh.  “Oh Dean, look at what you’ve done!  You were doing so well!  But now you need to be disciplined.”

He tried to turn his head to look at me and whined, “C’mon, Sammy—gimme a break!”

I shook my head.  “You knew the rules when we started.  And they haven’t changed, so no talking!”

I pulled the spreader bar down to the back of his thighs and nudged his knees up and together, which in turn pushed his ass up into the air.  I then delivered a series of ringing slaps, alternating between each cheek, ten to each.  I didn’t hit particularly hard, as embarrassment was the goal, not pain—I was _never_ interested in hurting him.  He yelped in surprise at the first strike but was able to stifle any further noise.

I rubbed his reddened buttocks soothingly.  “You did very well taking your punishment, Dee.  I’m going to add a couple of things to help you obey the rules from here on.  Remember, you can always use your safeword if you want me to stop.”

After he nodded, I snapped the leather cock ring tightly around the base of his shaft and fitted a ball gag into his mouth.  He glared at the sight of the gag but opened his mouth without protest when I brought it to his lips.  I sat back to admire how he looked, with his ass raised enticingly, his back curved down to where his shoulders and head rested on the pillows, his arms stretched back towards the spreader bar now resting near the backs of his knees.

“Now there’ll be no more talking or cumming without permission.  You can safeword telepathically, but no other sounds out of you!  You still have to make up for all the noise you just made before you’ll be allowed to cum again.”

Dean’s chest heaved in a silent sigh, but he arched his back further to better present his ass for my pleasure.  I patted his back approvingly before retrieving the vibrator from the nightstand and inserting it deep into his waiting entrance.  I turned it to its highest setting and proceeded to work it in and out of his snug passage rapidly, rubbing against his prostate repeatedly.  He trembled as his desire built up again under the onslaught but kept silent.

I played with him using the vibe for a while, until I could no longer resist the sight of his pink pucker yielding around the thick rubber member.  I withdrew the toy and tossed it to one side, then sank my cock into his heated depths.  He relaxed slightly as I slipped inside him before pushing back on my shaft eagerly.

_You like my cock better than that big vibrator, don’t you?_ I crooned as I drove repeatedly into his damp channel.  _Don’t worry—you’ll get plenty before we’re done.  Do you want more now?_

My lover nodded fervently and squeezed tightly around my length.  I took a firm grip on his hips and began to ride him hard, hammering into his rounded ass.  He rocked back just as forcefully into my thrusts, his breath wheezing harshly around the gag as he strove not to cry out.  Meanwhile the bedroom echoed with the resounding noise of our bodies coming together.

Having just ejaculated twice in quick succession, I was able to last for much longer this time before cumming for a third time.  I kept thrusting, my cock feeling as stiff as if I were the one wearing the ring.  My husband was shaking underneath me with the need to orgasm, and he shuddered violently as I reached around to stroke his weeping erection.

“Can you take one more, baby, or have you had enough?”  When he nodded his head to the first and shook it to the second, I told him, “You’re amazing, Dee!  As a reward, I’m not going to remove the gag, but you can make as much sound as you want.”

He immediately started whimpering while I jerked his swollen member, and that grew into a sequence of increasingly louder screams as I pounded into his taut passage over and over.  He shoved his pelvis back, impaling himself on my cock, and then forward, ramming his own shaft through the tunnel of my fingers.  As we moved together, his need and love propelled me ever closer to the peak of my pleasure.  My passion abruptly crested, and as I filled his depths again with my seed, I undid the cock ring.  He gave an enormous shout as he clenched almost painfully on my length and drenched my fingers with his cum.

As the last tremors of his orgasm passed, Dean slumped over in a sated stupor.  I hastily pulled out and undid all the restraints, including the gag, then rearranged his limbs into a more comfortable position.  I went into the bathroom to get a damp washcloth to clean him up properly and into the kitchen to retrieve the glass of juice and chocolate bars I’d left out for this purpose. 

By this point, he was starting to stir again, so I rejoined him on the bed and pulled him into my arms.  I slowly gave him sips of the juice and bites of the chocolate until they were gone, and then I carefully rubbed his arms and legs to ensure there were no sore spots from being held in place by the spreader bar for so long.  And all the while, I was praising him for how well he did and telling him how much I loved him.

It didn’t take much longer for him to recover, and he looked up at me with a slow smile.  _Well damn,_ that _was something fucking different!  You obviously got some experience with this dom/sub thing, darling.  You do this before with Jess?_

_Yeah, we played around with it a few times.  Although . . ._

_Lemme guess—_ she _was the one cracking the whip!_   His grin widened.  _Sonofabitch, I wish I coulda gotten to know that girl!_

_I wish you could’ve too, Dee,_ I said a bit sadly.

_Hey kiddo, I didn’t mean to upset you!_   He tried to sit up, a concerned expression on his face.

I tugged him back down.  _I’m not upset, not really.  I did love her at the time, but even then I knew it was a pale imitation of how I felt for you.  I think I’m more feeling regret that I cut you out of my life so completely during those years.  We both would’ve been much happier if I hadn’t, if I’d shared that part of my life with you._

_But as you’ve said before, we can’t change the past.  What’s more important is how_ you’re _doing right now.  Are you feeling better?  Did you enjoy what we just did?_

He snuggled against me, a heavy purr rumbling through his chest.  _I’m just_ fine _, Sammy.  It ain’t something I’d want to do as a lifestyle thing, but it’s definitely fun to play around with sometimes.  In fact, after we’ve both had a well-deserved nap, maybe we can try it again.  Though this time_ I’ll _be the one dishing out the spankings!_

***

Dean shook me awake the next morning.  “Sam, Sam, wake up!”

I grumbled and tried to roll over, feeling the need for more sleep.  We’d played around some more with discipline and restraints, as well as broke out some of our other toys, alternating that with breaks for food and rest, well into the previous night.  And our sleep was interrupted a couple of times when his need drove him too far, and the only way to calm him down was with more lovemaking.  Needless to say, I wasn’t in the mood to get up yet.

Unfortunately, my brother didn’t get the hint.  “C’mon dude, wake up!  I think something’s wrong with Astrid!”

_That_ made me sit up.  “Is she sick?  Do we need to take her to the vet?”

“No, it ain’t that.  I think she’s possessed or something, and I ain’t talking ‘bout the usual kitten crazies!”  He dragged me out of bed and out of the room.

He pulled me all the way into the family room, where Astrid was calmly sitting on Hannibal’s head and washing his ears in front of the fireplace.  Dean picked her up and set her down near the wall, then grabbed a laser pointer off one of the end tables.

“So I got up a little while ago to make breakfast, and while I was waiting for the coffee to brew, I decided to play with her,” he said.  “Now watch this!”

He clicked the laser pointer on and waved the bright red dot around on the floor in front of the kitten.  Her little face grew intent, and she tried to pounce on it each time it moved.  He then moved the dot up the wall, and without hesitation she chased it all the way up to the ceiling.

“See, that ain’t normal!  I could see momentum letting her run a foot or two up, but that’s ten fucking feet!” he exclaimed.  “I didn’t get any EMF readings near her, at least no more than we ever get in this house.  Couldn’t test her with salt or iron ‘cause then she decided to sit on Hannibal.”

I watched bemusedly as Astrid pawed at the ceiling a couple of times and then calmly walked back down the wall.  Once she reached the floor, she strolled over to the dog bed and sat next to the pup with her tail curled over her feet.  She looked up at me with wide green eyes and meowed inquiringly.

“Huh!  I think I know what’s going on, and if I’m right, there’s nothing wrong with her.  But I need to make sure first.  Go get one of the heavy blankets out of the closet,” I told the other man.

He nodded and hurried off.  I turned off the lights and closed the curtains, leaving the room dimly illuminated.  When he returned with a throw blanket made of thick fleece, I moved the kitten away from the hearth and tossed the blanket over her.  I then crouched down and lifted up an edge, careful to let in as little ambient light as possible.

What I saw under the blanket was pretty much what I expected.  Instead of complete darkness, there was a pale eldritch glow, centered on Astrid.  The tips of each of her hairs emitted a faint light, and the end of her fluffy tail shone brighter, while her eyes resembled two tiny green lamps.

I beckoned to my husband and moved aside to let him peer under the shrouding fleece.  He took a look and stiffened, radiating shock.  I pulled the blanket off, and we watched the eerie radiance slowly fade.  She looked at both of us and mewed again.

Dean picked her up, cradled her protectively against his chest, and demanded, “What the hell’s going on then?”

I grunted as nearly one hundred pounds of hellhound puppy climbed into my lap, Hannibal having decided that he deserved some attention too.  Once he settled down, I replied, “So get this—the Norwegian Forest Cat was named after the legend of the _skogkatt_ , which also means ‘forest cat.’  According to the lore, the _skogkatt_ was a large fairy cat which lived in the mountains and could climb sheer rock faces that no other cat could.  They were supposed to be massive, big enough that two of them drew the goddess Frejya’s chariot.  Jörmundgandr, the Midgard Serpent, is said to have once disguised itself as a _skogkatt_ during a test of strength against Thor, and the god didn’t think it unusual that he couldn’t lift the cat off the ground.”

“So, what—d’ya think that the ‘sneaky neighbor cat’ was actually a _skogkatt_?”

“Either that, or the breeder that Astrid’s mom came from has some _very_ interesting bloodlines!  This might explain why Hannibal’s so fascinated with her—he can tell she’s not a normal cat,” I pointed out, and the pup whuffled in agreement.

“Was he interested in any of the other kittens at that lady’s house?”

“No, so maybe she’s the only one who inherited any _skogkatt_ traits.  And before you ask, I had no idea about this either.  I only looked up the myth because I thought it was interesting that the breed was named after it,” I said.

“Is there anything we need to worry ‘bout?  Are they dangerous?” he asked while rubbing Astrid under the chin.

“Nothing ominous about the _skogkatt_ in particular.  There’s more lore about fairy cats elsewhere, particularly the Celtic _cait sidhe_ , which was rumored to devour souls and to actually be a witch in disguise.  I think the last bit got confused with stories about familiars.  And since I couldn’t find anything about having to take one down in any hunter’s journal, I suspect the first is just more of the same bullshit that got cats persecuted alongside supposed witches throughout the ages.”

“Well, nothing’s coming after her here!  Pretty sure Hannibal would eat any dumbass who tried.  Wouldn’t you, boy?”  He placed the kitten on the armchair behind him and then leaned over to gently shake Hannibal’s head by the muzzle.  “Wonder why we didn’t notice anything before though?”

I shrugged.  “Maybe she wasn’t old enough?  Her abilities could still be developing.  Speaking of which, some of the tales about fairy cats mention that they can . . . um, talk.  I don’t know if that’s true or if it applies to the _skogkatt_ , but we should be prepared just in case.”

“Awesome!  Are you gonna start talking to Daddy sometime soon, little girl?” my manly big brother cooed.  “Probably start bossing us all around, huh?”

“So you mentioned something about coffee?” I inquired plaintively.  “I’d get it myself, but I’m kind of buried right now under a whole lot of puppy.”

He stood and stretched.  “Okay, I’ll get you a mug.  But you better get yourself dug out soon, ‘cause I got _plans_ for you after breakfast!”

Once I’d convinced Hannibal to nap somewhere other than my lap, I sat at the breakfast bar and unabashedly ogled my husband.  He was wearing nothing more than a Darth Vader apron to protect his bare skin from grease splatters and humming _Paint It Black_ as he fried up eggs, bacon, and bread.  He moved about the kitchen almost as if he were dancing, confident and graceful.

He eyed my erection as he set a full plate in front of me.  “As tempting as that is, you gotta eat first, kiddo.  Don’t want you fainting on me!”

“Eat quickly then!”

After polishing off breakfast in record time and piling all the dishes in the sink, I grabbed him by the waist and lifted him onto the counter.  He put his hands on my shoulders and ducked his head down to kiss me while I ran my hands down the outside of his thighs to his knees and then back up the inside to his groin.  I opened my mouth under his talented lips and let him slip his tongue inside.

_You were driving me crazy earlier, with that perfect ass hanging out of that apron,_ I growled as he delicately licked inside my mouth.  _Wanted to fuck you right then and there!_

_There ain’t anything stopping you now, baby boy,_ Dean purred.

I placed a hand on his chest and pushed him to lie back on the island.  I then wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock and swallowed the rest of him down.  He moaned and combed his fingers through my hair as I sucked on his glans and licked up and down his shaft.  Two fingers from my other hand slid down his perineum and into his slippery passage, where they crooked to rub against his prostate.

_Does this feel good, Dee?_ I murmured, my tongue swirling around his member and my fingers slipping in and out of his hole.

_Fuck yeah, Sammy!  But I need your cock!_

_You’ll have it soon enough.  But first I want to make you cum from this!_

I bobbed up and down his length several times before pulling back to lap at his slit and jerk my curled fingers rapidly along his shaft.  At the same time, my fingertips relentlessly pressed and tapped against his sweet spot, causing him to keen and squirm.  A few moments more, and then he cried out and ejaculated into my mouth.

I swallowed and straightened up, then tugged him towards me until his hips were over the edge of the counter and his legs supported on my arms.  I thrust up into his waiting entrance, and we both moaned as my cock was enveloped by his hot channel.  I started driving into him hard and fast, listening to him mewl each time my member punched against his prostate.  He in turn braced his hands against the back of the breakfast bar, wrapped his legs around my torso, and rocked his pelvis in time with my strokes.

_More, darling,_ ahh _!  Fuck me more!_ my lover panted.  _Need you,_ ahh _, love you!_

Needing more leverage, I pulled him down further, so that most of his weight rested in my arms, and began hammering into his silky passage.  He grabbed hold of my shoulders, tightened his legs around my ribs, and threw his head back with a shout as I pounded his ass against the island.  I kept surging into him forcefully until I felt him shake and clamp down as he climaxed, then followed him into orgasm.

Dean collapsed back onto the counter, breathing heavily.  _Goddamn!  I think we committed a few health code violations in here, dude!_

I leaned against the island, my sides heaving.  _I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.  How are you feeling?_

_Mmm, not quite done yet, but I can wait a bit for round two.  And make sure we move to more comfortable surroundings!_   He sat up and kissed me.  _I know you can’t afford to miss any time next week, so I’ll make sure to start taking the suppression potion tomorrow night._

_Thanks, Dee.  But until then, I’m all yours!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a nice little smutty interlude before the last story arc of this work. It's mostly a filler chapter, but I realized from the timing that Dean was due for another heat.
> 
> I knew when I added her that Astrid wasn't going to be a normal cat, because what in our boys' lives is? So I researched into different mythological and legendary cat creatures until I found the skogkatt. I didn't have the legend in mind when I made her a Wegie--it was just a breed I'm interested in. So finding the skogkatt was serendipitous. Astrid's abilities are a mix of skogkatt and those of other fairy cats. I'm not sure yet about the talking and if that would be too crack-tastic.
> 
> This update is going up earlier in the day that usual because I'm home recovering from another surgery, this one to install an IV port for the chemo (which will be starting in early January) and to biopsy more lymph nodes in my underarm (because the first one came back positive for cancer). So I'll be home for the next week or two recovering, which will give me more time to write. :) Looking at the calendar, this story will finish posting right before my chemo starts, and then we'll see how things go for the next part in the series. In the meantime, constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys investigate a prophetic dream and get a huge surprise . . .

“Tell me again what we’re doing in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere at ass o’clock at night?” Dean demanded irritably.

I sighed.  We were currently sitting on the shoulder of a deserted back road cutting through a forest about half an hour south of Gilette, Wyoming.  It’d been past midnight when we arrived, and my husband’s patience was running thin after waiting here for nearly two hours.

“Like I told you, man, I’ve been having the same dream for over a week now.  The dream is always of us in the Impala on this exact stretch of road late at night, and then we hear some kind of commotion in those woods out there.  And the dream keeps getting more urgent each night,” I explained patiently.  “I know this has to mean something important!  The last time I dreamt like this was right before Jess died.”

“I know, I know.  Figured your precog thing would hafta move up from vibes eventually.  And at least it waited until _after_ your finals were done.  But couldn’t it have shown you something more specific?” he complained.

“Sorry, I always woke up after the noise started.  All I know is that we have to be ready to leave quickly soon after it does.  Now you need to be quiet so I can listen,” I told him.

My brother grumbled under his breath and slumped down in his seat.  About ten minutes later, he abruptly sat up and turned to face the forest.  After a few moments, I heard what had caught his attention—shouting, gunfire, and the buzzing of snowmobiles.  As the noise approached the road, he surreptitiously started the Impala’s engine.

We sat in the idling car, waiting as the sounds of the chase grew louder.  There was just enough light from the moon and stars overhead to make out a small shape bursting from the tree line towards us.  As it began to pass in front of the car, I reached over and flicked on the controls for the lights. 

The figure froze in the glare of the headlights, its face turned towards us.  It was a young boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, dressed in a shapeless grey smock, his blond hair buzzed close to his skull.  His large green eyes were squinted against the bright light, his full lips drawn back in a surprised snarl, his fair skin scarred and looking as if it hadn’t seen daylight in some time.  My breath caught in my throat as I recognized his features from the few pictures of our childhood and my own memories—this unknown boy looked _exactly_ like Dean did at that age, even down to the placement of his freckles.

While I was frozen in shock, the other hunter shoved the door to the car open and darted around to the front of the car.  As the boy turned to face Dean, his eyes briefly flashed silver.  I couldn’t make out what they said, but my husband took the child by the arm and led him to the back door.  Dean helped him into the backseat and covered him with a blanket, then pulled out a piece of chalk and quickly drew runes on the fleecy fabric.  I identified the symbols for a Notice-Me-Not spell.

He got back into the driver’s seat and glanced at the boy huddled under the blanket.  “Stay quiet and don’t move back there ‘til we get outta this area, kid.  We ain’t likely to get stopped, but if we are, we can handle the situation as long as you don’t draw any attention to yourself.  Got it?”

Without waiting for a response, he threw the car into gear and peeled away before the lights of the advancing snowmobiles could reach the road.  As he drove, he exclaimed, _What the_ hell _, Sam!  Who_ is _this kid?  There’s_ no _way he could be mine.  I_ always _used protection_ and _made sure I was shooting blanks.  Like I said before, I_ never _wanted to leave a kid behind to the kinda shitty childhood most shifters go through._

I pushed down my own surprise and tried to sooth my husband’s panic.  _I agree that he can’t be your son.  The resemblance is_ too _exact—no child looks_ that _much like one parent.  He’s obviously a shapeshifter, which begs the question of how a shifter child out here got your likeness.  And why . . ._

 _I guess we’ll hafta ask the kid once we’re far enough away._   He sounded calmer.  _This has gotta be what your dreams were about, right?  So we’re supposed to get him outta here, away from whatever was chasing him._

I nodded.  _I agree.  We’ll find out exactly what’s going on once it’s safe to talk._

He looked up into the rearview mirror.  “Listen, kid, we’re gonna save the heavy-duty questions ‘til we’re far enough away to have shaken any immediate pursuit.  But we do need to know now what kinda heat is after you—private security, police, military, or what?”

The boy hesitated for a moment before responding.  “Military, sir.  There’s a covert army base hidden in these woods.  Myself and several members of another unit attempted to break out of the facility at approximately oh-two-thirty tonight.  Given the speed of your response, it’s not likely that the forces after us can set up roadblocks in time to stop this vehicle.  Sir.”

Dean and I exchanged a long glance over his crisp words, which were more suited to a trained soldier than a young child.  Dean then said, “Thank fucking God if that’s true!  But you said there are other kids there trying to get out?”

“Twenty of us escaped the barracks, but I don’t know how many of the others were apprehended or eliminated while trying to leave the grounds.”  The boy paused briefly.  “I’m the only one who ran this way, if you’re concerned about rescuing anyone else, sir.”

 _Whaddya think, Sam?_ my brother asked.  _Should we go after the others too?_

 _My intuition or precog or whatever is shouting to get out_ now _.  If we linger to search for more escapees, we risk getting caught ourselves, and we aren’t prepared to take on a whole military base.  I think we’re meant to only get this one kid tonight,_ I replied.

He sighed.  _I don’t like it, but you’re right.  It ain’t safe to stick around here ‘til we know more ‘bout what the hell is going on.  I just hope the kid’s right ‘bout us getting out faster than these army dudes can block us._

We drove in relative silence—if you discounted the mullet rock blaring from the radio—after that.  I glanced at the backseat periodically and saw green eyes staring back watchfully each time, with the same guarded expression I remembered Dean wearing when we were around adults we didn’t know.  Dean in turn was mostly focused on putting as much distance as possible between us and the military facility, but he still radiated confusion and anxiety.

Eventually we pulled into a small rest stop about an hour west of Gillette.  The stop consisted of a small building for restrooms and vending machines, a couple of picnic tables, and space for overnight drivers to park and catch a few hours rest.  We were currently the only car in the parking lot.

My husband got out and stretched, then looked at me.  “You and the kid go snag a table.  I’m gonna hit the head, and then we’ll talk.”

While Dean headed to the building, I opened the back door.  As the boy swung his legs out, I realized he was barefoot, so I scooped him and the blanket up and carried them to the nearest picnic table.  He glared at me indignantly but didn’t say anything as I set him down on the bench and sat across from him.  I in turn frowned at what looked like a barcode tattooed on the back of his neck.

The other hunter soon returned with bottles of water and sat next to me.  “Alright, let’s start with the basics.  I’m Dean, and this is Sam.  What’re you called, kid?”

The boy sat up at attention.  “My designation is X5-494, sir!”

Dean and I gave each other confused looks, and then I said gently, “I’m afraid we don’t know what you mean by ‘designation.’  What’s your _name_?”

“All the subjects in the project are assigned designations denoting our series and specific makeup.  We don’t have names.”  Seeing our shock, he added hesitantly, “A girl in another unit, one of the other escapees, used to call me Alec because she said I was a smart-aleck.”

“We’ll go with that, ‘cause I ain’t using that other _thing_.  Now, you mind explaining how you’re wearing my face from ‘bout twenty-five years ago?” Dean asked.  “You ain’t my son, ‘cause I made _damn_ sure I couldn’t get anyone pregnant.  I know you’re another shifter, but I ain’t got a clue how you found my appearance.”

Alec replied, “I don’t know what a shifter is, sir.  I look like you because I’m your clone.”

Dean looked confused.  “Clone?  Like some _Bladerunner_ or _The 6 th Day_ thing?”

“That’s not possible.  Genetic science is nowhere close to successfully cloning an entire human being right now, let alone eight or nine years ago when you were conceived,” I said flatly.

The kid shrugged.  “Guess the government's been keeping secrets—big surprise!  We were created as part of a project called Manticore, which is designed to produce super soldiers.  They started with the genetic material from superior people, selected their best traits, and mixed it with the DNA of different animals to add their abilities.  The X5 series are meant to be officers and infiltration units, and we have feline DNA in our cocktail for enhanced senses, strength, speed, and agility.  Most of us were created from a mix of donors, but a few are clones of a specific individual.  The 490's are apparently clones of you, sir.”

“Wait, you mean there more mini-me's running around?  And how the hell did those assholes get my DNA in the first place?” the other man demanded.

“I only know about one other, X5-493, who was in that other unit.  He was one of the others who ran tonight.  And I wasn’t ever able to break into their files, so I’m not sure how they got the genetic material for the project,” Alec said.

Dean stared at the child intently for a moment.  “Well, you certainly believe what you're saying.  Gimme your hand for a sec, kiddo.”

Alex cautiously extended a small hand, and my brother wrapped his fingers around it and concentrated.  After a couple of minutes, he turned his head toward me.

 _I think the kid's telling the truth, Sam.  He_ is _an exact copy of me, but he didn’t get that way from shifting—he’s been dosed with something that’s blocking his shapeshifting talent.  His body's been_ seriously _tweaked—it’s like when I intentionally enhance my physical abilities, ‘cept he’s set like that_ all _the fucking time.  Didn’t see any cat DNA, but what he was told were feline traits could be innate shifter capabilities that the program cranked up.  Then there’s all the scars and that fucking tattoo._

_Huh!  So now what?  How do we take care of him?_

He smiled at me gratefully.  _First we get outta here.  I wanna get across the state border, then we can stop at the first big town and crash.  We can figure out what to do next after we’ve gotten some shut-eye._

Dean then directed his attention back to the boy.  “Alright, Alec.  Unless you got other plans, you're coming with us.  We're gonna put some more distance between us and the army douchebags and then find a hotel.  We can discuss our options after we’ve slept.  Any questions?”

Alec's brow furrowed.  “How did you know to be there tonight, sir?”

“I dreamt of it, of us waiting at that spot and hearing the snowmobiles approaching.  I’m a psychic,” I explained.  “We weren’t sure why we were there at first, but as soon as you appeared, we knew.”

“Huh.  I’d heard some of the X4's could do stuff like that, but I didn’t know other people could too.”

“Well, neither of us are exactly normal people ourselves,” I said.

“We can talk more later, but now it's time to get going.”  Dean moved around the table and briefly rested his hand on Alec's head, before picking him up and carrying him to the Impala.

***

We drove for a couple more hours before stopping at a hotel in Billings.  Alec had curled up and fallen asleep early in the drive, and I found myself nodding off too after a while.  Dean eventually shook me awake, and I grabbed our bags out of the trunk.

“I can walk, sir.  The snow and asphalt aren’t a big deal,” Alec insisted when Dean reached for him and the blanket.

“First off, you ain’t wearing shoes, so I _ain’t_ letting you walk through that shit.  Second, we're trying _not_ to attract attention, and people are gonna remember if you walk in barefoot and wearing only that smock thing,” my husband told him.  “Put your head on my shoulder and pretend to be asleep when we go inside.”

Dean hoisted the boy up and wrapped the blanket around him.  Alec laid his head on Dean's shoulder and closed his eyes as we entered the hotel lobby.  I approached the front desk and got the keys to a double room, and we then carried boy and bags down the hall and into the room.

Alec squirmed free the moment the door closed and began casing the room.  We exchanged amused glances as Dean unpacked what we'd need for the night and I warded the room.  Alec stopped his examination of the windows to watch me curiously.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Protecting the room.  These wards will prevent anything dangerous from getting in,” I said.

“Wards?  Dreams?  Who _are_ you guys?  And what's a shifter, and why do you think I’m _also_ one?”

“Short explanation—monsters are real.  We're talking ghosts, vampires, demons, you name it.  And then there are hunters, who get rid of the ones who hurt people.  Some are raised to be hunters, but most become one after losing someone to a supernatural creature,” I explained.  “We're kind of both—my mother and older brother died because of a demon when I was a baby, and my father found Dean to take my brother’s place a few months later.  Dad spent the rest of his life tracking down that demon, and he trained us to be hunters too.  As for what a shapeshifter is—Dean, why don't you show him?”

Dean smiled, and his form shimmered as he first became Alec's age, then turned into me, and finally resumed his normal shape.  He said, “Shifters can change their appearance, even take the shape of other people or creatures.  Most of ‘em hafta shed their skin to do it, kinda like a snake but a hell of a lot messier, but I seem to be different.

“Since you’re basically a copy of me, you should be able to shift like me too.  But you got something in your body right now, some kinda drug, that's blocking your ability.  Which might not have been a bad thing before, ‘cause shifting does have a . . . side effect.

“Making small changes, like altering your age or coloring or giving yourself claws, is okay.  When you take on someone's shape though, you can also get their thoughts, memories, and emotions if you’ve touched ‘em before.  Good for mimicking ‘em better, but problem is all that additional baggage starts filling up your head after a while, makes it hard to remember what's you from what's them.  Most shifters end up going bonkers ‘cause of that.  I know how to get rid of the extra mental crap, but I still avoid shifting into another person unless I absolutely hafta.”

Alec's eyes widened.  “That must be what started all this!  The guards took me and Ben—that's what his unit called X5-493—down to the basement a few days ago.  They were saying he’d become unstable, and they needed me for the tests as a control.  They also brought down Max—she’s the one who called me Alec—because she developed the shakes.  We’re supposed to be perfect specimens, so anyone with a flaw is taken down there for experiments before being either destroyed or locked up with the ‘nomalies. 

“Anyways, the rest of Ben's and Max's unit broke out of their barracks after lights-out and came to get them.  I asked them to let me loose too—I didn't want to get hurt anymore or thrown to the ‘nomalies.  I went with them as they looked for a way out of the facility.  But Colonel Lydecker and a couple of guards found us, and the colonel shot one of the girls.  Before they could do anything else, we broke through a window and scattered once we were outside.”

“So you think you were given something to prevent you from shifting but Ben wasn't, and he started to lose control as a result?” I asked.  “Poor kid.  We'll have to see if we can track him down.”

“Lydecker . . . Why does that name sound familiar?”  Dean looked at me.

I thought for a couple of minutes.  “Wasn’t that the name of one of Dad's buddies from Vietnam?  Huh!  Well, that might explain how Manticore knew about you, man.”

“Sonofabitch!  Last time I saw him was not long after you left for Stanford, when he stopped by to visit Dad while we were dealing with a vettala in Colorado.  The timing fits if Alec here is around eight or so.”  He paused thoughtfully.  “They might not have your DNA though, ‘cause I think he hadn’t seen you since you were fourteen, before your first growth spurt.  So he’d only know you as the midget you were back then, not the ginormitron you turned into.”

“I hope you're right, because the _last_ thing we need are clones running around with _my_ abilities!  And I assume Yellow-Eyes or Lucifer would've gone after them too if any existed.”  I stretched.  “You two go to bed.  I’m not as tired at the moment, so I’ll run to the Walmart across the street to get some clothes for Alec.”

He nodded, and I left the hotel and crossed the street.  Once inside the store, I went to the boys’ section and picked up shirts, jeans, underwear, sneakers, a jacket, basic toiletries, and a backpack to put it all in.  I didn’t know what Alec liked—assuming he even knew enough of the outside world to have an opinion—so I chose the sort of colors, characters, and flavors that my brother liked as a child.  I got enough to last for several days, knowing that we’d buy more for him later.  When I was back out in the parking lot, I called Frank Devereaux to start the process of setting up a false identity for the kid to go along with ours.

Because I knew Dean, so it wasn’t even a question of if he wanted to keep the boy.  He’d always been wonderful with kids, from raising me far better than our father ever did, to handling every child involved in a case with gentleness and compassion, to befriending the various youngsters in our current neighborhood.  I remembered the wistfulness that lingered for weeks after he met Ben Braeden, and the yearning that underlay his words when we briefly discussed the possibility of having kids of our own nearly a year ago.  And even though it’d only been a few hours since we’d met Alec, I could already see the tenderness and protectiveness in how he looked at and held the boy.  There was _no_ way I could deny my husband something so important.

For myself, I’d never really thought much about having children before.  It hadn’t been feasible with how our lives used to be, since there was no way I’d put another child through how we’d been raised.  And even though we were mostly settled down now, kids seemed like a development for the distant future at best.  But there _had_ to be a reason my dreams sent us to find this boy.  And despite his unorthodox creation, there was no denying that Alec was our blood, and we never turned our backs on family.

When I entered the room, the boy’s eyes opened immediately, took in who was at the door, and closed again.  I quietly set the bags down by the desk, stripped down to undershirt and boxers, and slipped into the other bed.  Dean rolled over and tucked his head into the space between my neck and shoulder.

 _Everything good?_ he asked drowsily.

I put an arm around him.  _Yeah.  I got him enough to last a week, and we can pick up more when we reach Sioux Falls.  I also talked to Frank to get the ball rolling on getting Alec the IDs and paper trail we’ll need to establish him as ours.  I told Frank we’d call him back later with the details._

A wave of love and gratitude washed over me.  _You’re awesome, Sammy!  And you’re sure you’re okay with taking him in?  You’ve never been as interested in kids as me._

 _Positive, Dee.  I might not have been expecting to have a child right now, but I always knew they’d be a part of our life eventually,_ I assured him. _And we can’t leave this kid to fend for himself.  He’s family._

_You’re the best, man!  Though we’re not heading to Bobby’s from here._

_Why not?  It’s a lot closer than home.  And we need to give Frank time to do his thing._

_Because if there’s_ any _chance those Manticore asshats suspect Dean Winchester had something to do with Alec’s successful escape, then Bobby’s house is the_ first _fucking place they’re gonna look for us.  But they won’t know to search for Dean Smith-Wesson in Veneta, Oregon,_ he explained.

_How can we be sure of that?_

_If those fucktards knew ‘bout our new lives and where I really was, they woulda grabbed me by now.  They got Ben and however many other kids crashing and burning before the age of ten, and yet I’m still doing fine.  I’m sure the sonsofbitches would_ love _to know how, so the fact that they haven’t tried to get their damn hands on me yet tells me they don’t know where to find me._

Dean continued, _And we can work around Alec’s new history not being ready yet.  We can persuade Frank to put a rush on the essentials, and the rest probably won’t be needed until we hafta enroll him in school.  Which I think we should hold off on for a bit anyways.  The kid really has_ no _fucking clue ‘bout the real world, and he’s gonna stick out like a sore thumb if we send him to school right now._

 _Huh, I hadn’t thought about that,_ I said. _Well . . . we could say that his mother kept him isolated, and we’ll homeschool him for the rest of the school year.  There’s only about three months left before summer break, and hopefully he’ll be better prepared by the time the next year starts._

_Sounds like a plan.  Now get some sleep.  We’ll talk to the kid when we wake up._

It was close to noon by the time we both woke up.  Alec was still fast asleep, so we quietly washed up and got dressed.  Dean then sat on the edge of his bed and gently shook his shoulder.  The boy’s eyes shot open.

“Hey kiddo.  Why don’t you get cleaned up and changed outta that fugly smock?  Sam got you some new clothes, a toothbrush, and all that crap.  We gotta talk after that, and then we’ll go get some lunch.”  Dean handed him a pile of clothes and toiletries.

He disappeared into the bathroom and emerged twenty minutes later freshly scrubbed and wearing jeans, a long-sleeved _Transformers_ t-shirt, and green and black Nikes.  By that time we had everything packed up, with the bags waiting by the door.  I was sitting at the desk, searching on my tablet for any news of military activity in the area, while Dean was sitting in the armchair with a mug of coffee.

“Sit down, kiddo,” he said, indicating the nearer bed.  “Clothes fit okay?”

Alec sat and shyly fingered his shirt.  “Yes, sir.  I . . . I’ve never had anything like these.  We only ever wore the smocks or fatigues.”

“Yeah, well, you’re done with that shit.  Now, I’m guessing that you didn’t really have a plan ‘bout what to do or where to go after you busted outta that shithole, right?  So Sam and I want you to come home with us and . . . and be our son.  Whaddya think?”  Dean set his mug down and nervously laced his fingers together.

The kid looked confused.  “Why?  Why are you doing all this for me?  You barely even know me!”

“Our jobs—our whole lives—are all about helping people, most of whom are complete strangers, and we don’t expect to get paid or receive any kind of reward for doing it.  We’d never leave _any_ kid in a situation like yours, and you can be sure we’re going to do what we can for the other escapees _and_ the ones still trapped back at Manticore.  But it’s more than just that in your case.”  I looked over at Dean.

“Sam’s right.  You might not have been conceived in the usual way, but you _were_ created from me, and that makes you my kid.  Family means _everything_ to both of us, whether it’s by blood or by choice, and there ain’t nothing that we won’t do for them,” my brother added.  “We’ll do our best to protect you, take care of you, and give you the kinda life you shoulda had before.  And the Winchester best ain’t nothing to sneeze at.”

Alec bit his lip and then nodded.  “O—okay.  So now what?”

Dean leaned over and extended his hands.  “Gimme your hands again.  I’m gonna clear that drug outta your system, and then I’m gonna change your appearance a little, just so you don’t look so much like an escaped military experiment.  I’ll start showing you how to use your abilities later, but for now I’ll keep control of ‘em.  It’s something I remember my shifter parent doing with me when I was real little.”

Alec laid his hands on Dean’s palms, and the other hunter concentrated for a couple minutes.  The child’s shape rippled briefly, leaving his hair a couple inches longer, his complexion a healthier color, and his skin free of scars and the barcode tattoo.  Dean then sat back but didn’t let go of the boy’s hands.

“Lemme make a few things clear right off the bat.  First of all, X5-494 don’t exist anymore, you got that?  Your _name_ is Alexander Jonathan Winchester, and I will beat the shit outta anyone who tries to make you use that goddamn ‘designation.’  Our dad’s name was John, and he’d be proud to have you using it too.

“Next, you _ain’t_ a soldier anymore either, super or otherwise.  You’re an eight-year-old _child_ , and you’re gonna enjoy doing all the shit other kids like from now on.  That means going to school and playing sports and having fun, _not_ running drills and learning to kill people and whatever fucked-up crap they made you do.  You can join the military when you grow up if you really wanna, but only if it’s _your_ choice.  Or you can become a doctor or an artist or whatever the hell you want, not what those Manticore douchebags say you hafta do.

“And we ain’t your commanding officers, so you don’t hafta call either of us ‘sir.’  You can call me Dean or . . . or Dad, if you’d like.  And he’s just Sam, or Uncle Sam or Papa if you’re gonna call me Dad.  After we get home, we’ll start introducing you to the rest of the family—you’ve now got a grandpa and a whole buncha uncles and aunts who’ll _love_ to meet you,” Dean concluded.

“You should be aware that only a few people—mostly other hunters—know who we really are or what we really do.  Most people don’t believe the supernatural is real nor have a clue about the existence of hunters,” I explained.  “We recently settled down near Eugene, Oregon, but our neighbors and co-workers know us as Dean and Sam Smith-Wesson, a mechanic and graduate student respectively.  So you’ll be Alec Smith-Wesson to them, and we have someone creating a false identity to go with that.”

Dean stood and said briskly, “Okay, that’s enough deep talk for now.  I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m _starving_!  I remember passing a decent-looking diner a coupla blocks from here, so let’s get some grub!”

I went to the door and handed Alec the filled Batman bookbag.  “There are additional clothes for you in there, enough for a few days, and we’ll buy more when we get home.  Put your toothbrush and stuff inside before we get going.  Oh, and there’s _this_.”  I pulled something else out of a plastic shopping bag and gave it to him.

The boy looked wide-eyed at the large plush dragon in his hands.  “Wha—what’s this?”

“Every kid needs toys, so that’s your first,” I said with a big smile.  “His name is Toothless the Nightfury, and we’ll show you the movie he’s from really soon—it’s one of Dean’s favorites.  And we’ll be getting you _plenty_ more toys too!”

As Alec hurried into the bathroom, bag and toy clutched tightly in his arms, Dean pulled me into a hug.  _I’ll say it again—you’re the best, Sammy!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where the crossover starts. You don't need to be familiar with Dark Angel to get the rest of this part of the story (or how it affects the next one), particularly since this will be pretty AU on the DA side. And hopefully you don't find this addition too crack-tastic.
> 
> Back when I first finished binge-watching Supernatural on Netflix, I discovered a friend of mine was a Jensen Ackles fan from some of his previous works. So I introduced her to SPN, and she lent me her boxed sets of both seasons of Dark Angel. After watching those, I naturally looked up crossover fan fic featuring Alec and our boys. Most was the smutty stuff you'd expect with an adult Alec interacting with Dean and/or Sam. But there were a few where the Winchesters find kid Alec (or Ben) right after the escape and take him in. I immediately fell in love with this idea and resolved to find a way to work it into one of my stories. And now here we are!
> 
> As mentioned before, there's going to be a number of changes from the canon DA storyline. The escape takes place in March 2011 instead of March 2009 to fit in with my storyline, and Alec as well as Ben is obviously one of the escapees. I had to figure out how Dean and therefore Alec and Ben being shapeshifters would affect the super-soldier cloning process. It helped that both the canon X5's and my version of shifters have feline traits, so it seemed natural to explain that the one came from the other. There will be other major divergences from DA canon as this and the next story progress.
> 
> I don't know yet if I will still be home recuperating by next week, so we'll have to see if the next update will go up on Friday evening or earlier in the day. The following (and last) update for this story will probably go up a day early, as January 5th will be my first chemotherapy treatment. In the meantime, constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take Alec home . . .

Alec was still hugging the stuffed dragon tightly to his chest when we walked into the diner.  At our booth, Dean let the boy sit first by the window and slid in next to him, while I sat across from the both of them.  I remembered my brother taking this same defensive seating arrangement when I was a small child, positioning himself between me and any potential threat.

“I’m gonna assume that the sonsofbitches who couldn’t be bothered to name you also didn’t feed you anything decent.  Probably gave you all some kinda gruel that was nutritious but tasted like ass, right?” Dean asked as he passed over a menu.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Alec muttered as he started examining it.

“Well, diners are an awesome place to start exploring _real_ food—they’re everywhere, they’re open early and late, they’re cheap, and they have a selection of different types of stuff,” Dean explained.  “Lemme know if something looks interesting.  But if you ain’t sure, I’ll start by ordering you the basics.”

A matronly waitress bustled up and, after taking in our matching wedding rings and Dean’s and Alec’s obvious resemblance, beamed at us warmly.  “Good afternoon, dears!  What can I get you to drink?”

“Me and the munchkin will have Cokes please, darling,” my husband replied with an equally wide smile.

“Unsweetened ice tea for me please,” I added.

The moment she walked away, Alec scowled.  “ _Munchkin?_ ”

I grinned at him.  “As the youngest _and_ most vertically challenged member of the family, you better get used to that.  And ‘squirt,’ ‘midget,’ ‘shrimp,’ and whatever other ridiculous nicknames he can come up with.  I had to put up with that for _years_.”

Dean stuck his tongue out at me.  “Eldest’s prerogative, dude.  Anyway, I’m gonna order the appetizer sampler so you can try a few varieties of fried goodness.  And if there ain’t anything you’d prefer more, you can’t go wrong with a bacon cheeseburger and fries.  Whaddya think, kiddo?”

“Is that what you’re getting?”

“Yep!  Oh, and make sure you save room for dessert.  The best thing about diners is the _pie_ ,” Dean said seriously.

Our waitress returned with our drinks and took our orders: chicken Caesar wrap and fruit salad for me, bacon double cheeseburger with extra onions and fries for Dean, bacon cheeseburger with fries for Alec, and an appetizer sampler for the table.  She also left a coloring book and box of crayons behind.

Alec eyed those in confusion.  “Are these for me?  What am I supposed to do?”

“Some places offer stuff like this so the kids don’t get bored while they’re waiting.  Notice how all the pictures are just outlines?  You can fill them in with whatever colors you want, using the crayons there,” I told him.

“Try your Coke first though, dude.  If you don’t like it, we can get something else,” Dean said.

Alec took a cautious sip from his straw, and his eyes almost bugged out.  “This is . . . this is _awesome_!”

Dean grinned happily.  “You ain’t seen nothing yet, kid!”

Alec turned his attention back to the book and studied the pages.  He then selected a crayon and began coloring in a house carefully, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.  Dean and I exchanged amused glances at his intensity.

“Okay, it’s ‘bout a fifteen-hour drive to get home.  If we push straight on through, we should get there by around dawn tomorrow.  Or we can stop at another hotel around halfway and arrive home in the early afternoon.  Whaddya think, Sammy?”  Dean asked after slurping down half of his own Coke.

“We should push through until we’re safe at home.  The longer we stop anywhere, the more chance Manticore has to catch up if they manage to find our trail.  I know it’s a minute chance with all the wards on us and the Impala, but it’s better not to take the risk,” I replied firmly.

“Works for me.”  Dean looked down at the boy.  “Relax, Alec.  It don’t hafta be perfect—this is just for _fun_.  So scribble outside the lines or color that dog purple if you wanna, okay?”

Before Alec could respond, his attention was distracted by the arrival of the appetizers.  “What’s all this stuff?”

“We got a good mix here, kiddo.  These are chicken fingers, which you can dip either in the honey mustard or the barbeque sauce.  Then there are the mozzarella sticks, potato skins, and onion rings.  We also got some fried zucchini, but only weirdos like Sam eat those.”

“Hey, don’t prejudice him before he tries them, jerk!” I retorted indignantly.  “Not everyone believes the only good vegetables are burger and pizza toppings!”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree here, bitch.  You’re always going on about how feline I am, and cats are obligate carnivores.  Some vegetables don’t suck, but you can keep your nasty zucchinis!” Dean said smugly as the boy spat out a piece with an exaggeratedly disgusted expression.

Alec happily ate one of everything else and came back for seconds of the chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks.  He intently watched as Dean noisily licked his fingers clean and then mimicked his actions almost exactly.  I knew I’d have to put my foot down soon, because I did _not_ need to deal with my brother’s obnoxious eating habits in stereo.

Noticing that his glass was almost empty, I asked, “Do you want another Coke, Alec?”

“I _would_ , but I . . . I think I _need_ a glass of milk instead,” he said with a slightly wrinkled brow.

“Need?  Is something wrong?”

He hesitated for a moment.  “It’s something Manticore did.  They built a tryptophan deficiency into all the X5’s as a control mechanism.  If we don’t get their daily supplement, we go into seizures and eventually die.  Some of us develop the shakes even with the supplements, which is why they took Max downstairs with Ben and me.”

“Bastards!  Lemme see if I can do something ’bout that.”  Dean laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and focused for several minutes.  “Damn, I ain’t used to going in that deep!  I’m gonna need more time to find what they fucked up, but I should be able to fix it eventually.  In the meantime, we’ll see ‘bout getting you some supplements from the nearest pharmacy.”

Alec gave him an awed look.  “You can _do_ that—fix what’s wrong with me?”

“You’ll be able to yourself someday, squirt.  Technically any shapeshifter can, but most of ‘em don’t train their abilities enough.  See, we got _total_ control over our bodies when we shift, but you gotta practice to learn how to do the detailed shit.  Most shifters ain’t aware of the full extent of what they’re capable of, and so they only use the basic stuff on an instinctual level.”

“How come?  If I knew I could do awesome stuff like this, I’d want to learn all about it!” the kid exclaimed.

“’Cause they _don’t_ know,” Dean answered.  “Most shapeshifters grow up in human families—they’re the result of a shifter impersonating the husband to impregnate the wife and then skipping town.  So they grow up not knowing what’s going on, _and_ with their human family freaking out ‘bout them being different.  That’s often what starts the poor sonsofbitches on the crazy train.

“I got lucky ‘cause Dad—technically Sammy’s dad—knew exactly what I was, and he helped me learn how to _really_ use my shifting ability.  He also helped me build up a tolerance to silver, which is our one big weakness.  We can heal almost anything that ain’t instantly fatal, except for head or heart shots with silver.  And contact with the stuff makes our skin burn, which is how hunters can tell what we are.  We’re gonna hafta figure out what to do ‘bout that for you.  Dad’s method was effective, but I ain’t putting another kid through it!”

Our waitress showed up with our meals at that moment, which effectively ended any serious conversation.  Alec once again first watched and then imitated Dean in spreading ketchup and mustard on his patty, slicing up his pickle and adding it to his toppings, and pushing his coleslaw towards me.  He sniffed the burger before taking a large bite, and then he closed his eyes and made a virtually identical blissful noise as the older man.  Dean showed him how to dip his fries in ketchup and eat them, which elicited another ecstatic sound from the boy.  I just sighed tolerantly.

By the time the waitress returned, Dean’s plate was almost empty, but Alec’s still held a third of his burger and half his fries.  She gave him a concerned look.  “What’s the matter, honey?  You didn’t like them?”

“Oh no, ma’am, everything was _awesome_!  But my dad told me to save room for the most important part of the meal— _pie_.”  He blinked guilelessly up at her.

“Aren’t you _sweet_!” she cooed.  “I’ll wrap these up so you can have them later then.  As far as pie goes, we’ve got the best apple pie in the city.  We also have cherry and lemon meringue.”

“We’ll have two slices of the apple, sweetheart.  Oh, and can you get my boy a chocolate milkshake too?  His mom was very strict and didn’t let him have sweets, so I’m treating him.”  Dean put an arm around the kid’s shoulders.

I rolled my eyes as she visibly melted under the assault of two sets of wide green eyes and charming smiles.  Once she walked away, I announced, “You two are terrible!”

“You mean we’re fucking _awesome_!  We ain’t gonna hafta pay for pie _ever_ again!” my husband crowed.

“You do know that we’re no longer living hand-to-mouth, right?  You don’t _have_ to cadge for food, even pie, anymore,” I tried to point out.

“It’s the principle of the thing, Sam,” he said loftily.  “If people can’t resist how adorable our son is, who am I to stop them?”

Soon our waitress came back with not only the two slices of pie and milkshake but also a bowl with a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream.  Dean thanked her effusively after shooting me a triumphant glance. 

“Okay, kiddo, we’re starting with the apple pie today ‘cause apple is the best pie ever,” he instructed.  “Cut off a big mouthful of the pie, add a little ice cream, and then down the hatch!”

Alec popped the forkful into his mouth, and his eyes grew to almost anime proportions.  He swallowed and breathed reverently, “Oh my God!  This is . . . this is . . .”

“I know, right?  Don’t forget to try your milkshake too!”

I smiled indulgently as the little boy in front of me experienced his first foodgasm.  He scraped his plate and the bowl of ice cream clean and slurped down all of the milkshake, then leaned back against the seat with his hands over his full stomach.  While Dean beamed at him and finished his own piece of pie, I waved over the waitress to get the check.  I pointedly didn’t reveal that the bill included neither pie nor ice cream, as I didn’t want to deal with the gloating.

Once we were outside, Dean stopped Alec in front of the Impala with a hand on his shoulder.  “Before we hit the road again, I wanna properly introduce you to a very important member of the family.  This is Baby, and she’s been a part of the Winchesters for almost forty years.  She’s a nineteen sixty-seven Chevy Impala, and she’s the most awesome car out there _ever_.  She first belonged to Dad, and he taught me how to take care of her, then gave her to me after I turned sixteen.  For most of Sam’s and my lives, she’s been the closest thing we’ve ever had to a home, and now she’s yours too.  As long as you treat her right, she’ll always take care of you.”

***

We stopped at the Walmart first to get a bottle of tryptophan supplements, as well as a couple of books and a Nintendo 3DS to keep Alec occupied during the long ride (which didn’t stop him from pelting us with _lots_ of questions).  Once we were on the highway, I called Frank back to give him the rest of the information he needed and tell him to expedite the essential documentation.  Other than a few brief stops for gas and food, we drove through the rest of the day and well into the night, periodically switching out who was behind the wheel.

The sun was just cresting the horizon when we pulled into our driveway and parked in the garage next to my GTO.  I grabbed our bags out of the trunk while Dean shook Alec awake and gathered up his things from the backseat.  The boy was still yawning as he followed us to the side porch.

We could hear excited barking as Dean unlocked the door, and Hannibal burst through as soon as it opened.  As the puppy attempted to knock my brother down and slobber all over his face, I noticed Alec drop into a defensive stance, his teeth drawn back in a snarl.  I realized that his only experience with dogs probably had been with fierce attack dogs used by the Manticore guards, so he now viewed our exuberant pup, who weighed twice as much as he did, as a threat.

I caught hold of his arms before he could lunge forward.  “Hey, it’s okay, Alec.  He’s not attacking Dean—he’s just happy to see us.  Hannibal is our pet, and the only danger he poses is if he drowns you in dog drool.  Hannibal, c’mere boy!”

Hannibal bounded over and crashed into my knees.  I crouched in front of him and rubbed his head and ears vigorously.  I then took Alec’s hand and guided it to the top of his head, while commanding the dog, “Stay!”

Alec cautiously stroked the puppy’s head, and Hannibal wriggled joyfully and licked him from chin to forehead.  “Hey, that tickles!  Is he always this friendly?”

“Oh yeah, he’s an enormous lovebug.  Which is why he’s here with us instead of down with the rest of his litter.  We’ll tell you the whole story later.  For now, let’s head inside,” I said.

In the kitchen, Dean scooped up Astrid and placed her in Alec’s arms, where she promptly began to purr.  “And this is the other four-legged member of the family.  Alec, meet Astrid.  I think she likes you already!”

“She’s so fluffy!”  He watched as she rolled onto her back, then slowly stroked the soft fur on her belly.

“So welcome to your new home, kiddo.”  Dean put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and began showing him around.  “This is obviously the kitchen.  During the week, I usually make breakfast around six before I go to work, lunch will be packed to take with you when you come with me or Sam, and dinner’s generally ready by the time Sam gets home at six-thirty.  You can grab a snack whenever you want, as long as it ain’t right before mealtime or bedtime. 

“There’s the TV here in the family room and one upstairs in the game room that you can use.  You just gotta make sure to finish your schoolwork and chores first.  This leads to our bedroom.  If the door’s closed, knock first in case we’re . . . uh, busy or something.  Otherwise, you’re welcome in there.  Just don’t go through our stuff without asking!

“Sammy, can you take him upstairs and show him his room?” my husband then asked.  “‘Cause he looks ready to fall asleep on his feet.  We can show him the rest later.  I gotta feed the critters, and then I’ll drag our stuff to our room.”

I nodded and led the child upstairs, then pointed to our left.  “This is the game room.  We’ll show you how to play on the video game consoles, air hockey and pool table, and other games some other time.  Come over here.”

I opened the door on the right, and he followed me into the bedroom.  It was simply furnished with a full bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a solid navy blue rug on the hardwood floor.  The bottom half of three of the walls was decorated in Morris-style wallpaper—a stylized leaf border directly above the baseboards, then a floral fill creating a faux wainscoting, topped by a woodland frieze—and the top half was painted a pale blue.  The back wall was filled with a wide closet, several built-in cabinets, and the door to the en-suite bathroom.  A large window on the side wall let in the morning light.

“This wasn’t designed to be a kid’s bedroom—it originally was our second guest room.  But we thought it would be better for you since it’s a little bigger and has its own bathroom,” I said as Alec looked around.  “We’re going to order a desk and a bookcase or two for you.  And we can get whatever else you want.”

“I—I’ve never had my own room before.  Each unit shared a room in the barracks, and we just had cots and footlockers.”  He touched the frieze.  “I like this, with the deer and the bunnies.”

I smiled as I set his bookbag on the dresser.  “I’m glad, Alec.  You get some rest now—there’s a set of pajamas in here.  We’ll show you the rest of the house and yard later today.  Tomorrow we’ll go shopping together to get you more clothes and toys and stuff.”

“Thanks, Papa—and Dad, too.  For finding me and bringing me here and—and everything else.”

“We’re just glad to have you, kid.”  I ruffled his hair and headed downstairs.

When I got to the family room, I pulled my phone out and called Bobby.  “Hey Bobby, how are you doing?  Sorry to disturb you so early, but . . . we’ve got some pretty big news.”

There was the sound of a beverage being swallowed, presumably coffee.  “Don’t worry ‘bout it, son.  I’m fine, other than getting sick of that idjit Fred Murtagh calling all the time.  Phone’s been ringing at least once a week—is this real, does this exist, you gotta check out this weird story, and on and on.  Dude’s taking this ‘The truth is out there’ thing a bit too seriously, if you ask me!  Just be glad he ain’t pestering you—though that might be ‘cause I implied you’d turn him into a toad if he bothered you.”

I snickered.  “Don’t encourage him!  Have any of his stories panned out?”

I heard another swallow.  “One did, actually—a kind of Polish vampire critter called a _latawiec_ down near Tempe.  I passed the info onto Annie Hawkins, and she’s gonna rustle up a couple more able bodies to check it out.  So what’s up with you two?”

“Well . . . um, we have a kid now.”

“Come again?”

I explained, “I started having these dreams over a week ago, like right before Jess died.  They showed us waiting at night on the side of some remote road until we heard sounds of a chase approaching through the neighboring woods.  After some scrying and research, I figured out the stretch of road was outside Gilette, Wyoming.  We left for there a couple days ago because the dreams were becoming increasingly more urgent. 

“After waiting at the right spot for a couple hours, a little boy burst out of the woods with what sounded like armed men on snowmobiles after him.  We caught him as he ran in front of the Impala and immediately knew he was why we were there.  Bobby, this kid looks _exactly_ like Dean did at age eight, down to the last freckle.”

“Are we thinking another shapeshifter?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think,” I said.  “We got the kid out of there before his pursuers could see us, and we talked after we put a safe distance between them and us.  According to Alec, there’s a military facility hidden in those woods, and he’s part of a secret program to breed super soldiers.  They take the DNA from promising individuals, add in animal genes for improved physical abilities, and then pump out clones like Imperial stormtroopers.  Most of the kids in this project are created from a mix of genetic donors, but a small number are exact copies of a particular person.  So they somehow got Dean’s DNA and cloned him to create Alec.”

“Sam, this sounds crazy even by _our_ standards!  You sure this kid ain’t pulling your leg . . . or starting to lose his marbles?” Bobby asked skeptically.

“We didn’t believe his story at first either, but too many things started to add up.  He was dosed with a drug to suppress his shapeshifting ability, and yet he’s a _perfect_ replica of my brother.  His body is super-tuned—like when Dean amps up his abilities, except that’s Alec’s normal setting—and had way more scars than even _we_ did at that age.  He even had a fucking barcode on the back of his neck, and Dean said the tattoo was somehow encoded into his DNA!  To top it all off, the commanding officer at Manticore, Lydecker, turns out to be an old friend of Dad’s, so we assume that’s how these fuckers got Dean’s genetic material.”

“Damn!  So how did this kid get out?”

“These assholes were apparently running some kind of experiment with Alec and Ben, another of Dean’s clones who _wasn’t_ given the shifting suppressor.  Ben eventually became too unstable since we presume he didn’t know how to control his ability, so they took both boys away to perform tests on them.  They also took a girl from Ben’s unit—the bastards had built in a dietary deficiency to keep the kids dependent on a supplement they provided, like in _Jurassic Park_ , but some of them developed seizures even with the supplements.  These children were expected to be perfect, and any who were ‘flawed’ got locked up or killed,” I said.

"Anyway, Ben’s and Max’s unit got out of their barracks and released the three of them, and then they all made a run for it.  Lydecker shot one of the girls, but about twenty kids made it out of the building, though we don’t know how many escaped from the property.  As much as we wanted to help more of them, we had to get the hell out with Alec before the military goons found us.  After that, there was no question about keeping the boy.”

“Of course not!  So where are you now?”

“We’re back home,” I replied.  “We didn’t go to Sioux Falls because if Manticore suspected we took Alec, they’d come to your place first.  Whereas we don’t think they’re aware of our new identities here.  They probably _don’t_ know we’re involved, but it’s better to play it safe for a while.”

“Alright then.  I’ll call Jody and see how soon she can get offa work.  We’ll make sure we ain’t followed on our way to your place.  Is there anything you want us to bring?”

“More materials for scrying and locator spells would be great, Bobby.  We need to find the other escaped children, but Dean and I don’t have the time right now to pick up the components.  Our first priority is getting Alec what he needs.  These poor kids never had _anything_ , man—real food, regular clothes, toys, none of it.  The douchebags didn’t even give them _names_ , just alphanumeric designations.  Ben’s unit picked names for themselves, and Max gave Alec his.”

“These Manticore guys sound like real sonsofbitches.  But don’t worry, Sam—we’ll make sure these kids are taken care of,” Bobby said reassuringly.  “Expect us in the next day or two.”

After he hung up, I went into our bedroom.  Dean was in bed, so I quietly went into the bathroom to wash and undress.  I noticed as I hung up my clothes in the closet that our bags were unpacked and put away.  I then equally silently returned to the bedroom.

Nevertheless, my husband rolled over to watch me as I got into bed.  _You talk to Bobby?_

I put an arm around him.  _Yeah, I filled him in on what’s going on.  He and Jody are coming here to meet Alec._

 _That’s awesome.  I want Alec to have all the things we missed out on as kids, Sammy, and that includes as much family as possible.  Even if it ain’t the traditional kind,_ he replied fiercely as he settled against my shoulder.

_No arguments here!  Although . . . this brings up an issue we haven’t discussed yet.  Are we . . . are we going to stop hunting now?_

He sighed.  _I dunno.  It’s what I said a year ago when we talked ‘bout kids, but neither of us expected to have one so soon or so sudden.  Things are already different than when we were growing up.  We got a home and jobs and roots here, and we ain’t hunting as much as before._

 _And Alec isn’t exactly a normal kid either,_ I added.  _I suspect he’s better trained than we were at even several years older, at least when it comes to combat skills.  He’s going to need more than playing catch and soccer to keep him challenged physically.  A certain amount of hunter training might be good for him._

 _Maybe, but he_ ain’t _actually hunting!  He’s gonna learn that he’s a kid,_ not _a killing machine,_ Dean declared _.  But as far as the two of us, I guess we’ll play it by ear for now.  We’ll hafta be even more selective ‘bout what cases we take versus what we pass on to someone else._

He then wound a hand through my hair and kissed me.  _Have I told you lately how much I love you, darling?  I mean, I know you ain’t so into kids, or at least not ‘bout having one so soon.  But you were immediately onboard with adding Alec to the family.  I didn’t hafta say a thing._

I pulled him closer and kissed him back.  _It wasn’t even a question, Dee.  No matter how he came to be, he’s your kid, and that makes him mine too.  This might be sudden, but we’ll make it work like we always do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter was largely inspired by "The Church of Pie" by Bundibird (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451950), which is part of one of my favorite Winchester/kid Alec crossover series. Like in that story, I assume that Manticore was concerned about nutrition more than taste when it came to feeding its experiments, so those kids never experienced greasy food, soda, or dessert of any kind until they escaped. Given how important food is to Dean, I had to include Alec's first "real" meal, and that meal had to include pie. :)
> 
> One more chapter left to go! The last update for this story will go up next Thursday, since I'm getting my first chemo treatment Friday morning and don't know how I'll feel after that. Until then, constructive criticism is always welcome, and comments and kudos make my day.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec begins to settle into his new life and meets more of his new family . . .

It was after noon by the time we got up.  I awoke to Dean’s lush lips wrapped around my cock, sucking and licking and humming _When the Levee Breaks_.  I moaned and thrust into his hot mouth as his tongue swirled and twisted around my shaft.  Between my half-awake state and the fact that it’d been a couple of days since we’d had time to make love, it took less than two minutes for me to climax.  He then crawled up my body until he was straddling my chest, and I gladly reciprocated the blowjob.

Alec was sitting in front of the fireplace and throwing a ball for Hannibal to fetch, while Astrid chased after the puppy, when we emerged from our room after showering and dressing.  He was wearing another pair of jeans and a _Power Rangers_ t-shirt and smiled happily when he saw us.

I brushed my hand over his head as I walked past him and sat on the loveseat.  “How are you feeling, Alec?  Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, Papa.  The bed here is even more comfortable than the one at the hotel.  It was kinda weird going to sleep by myself, but when I woke up Astrid was on my pillow!  Hey, what’s Dad doing?” he asked, nodding towards where Dean was rummaging in the kitchen.

“He’s making lunch for all of us.”

“Dad can _cook_?  Awesome!”  He got up and hurried over to the island.

Dean grinned at him as he sat at the breakfast bar.  “Hungry, kiddo?  I’m making us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato rice soup.  It’s something Mom used to make when I—I mean when the original Dean was a little kid.”

“What about when _you_ were little, before Grandpa John found you?”

“I don’t really think ‘bout that time.  Like most shifters, my parent was a few cards short of a full deck and didn’t treat me too well.  I’d rather act like the other Dean’s memories were really mine.”  My brother shook his head to clear it.  “Now, you wanna learn how to make the sandwiches?”

After lunch, we showed him around the rest of the house and the yard and demonstrated how to use the microwave, TV, Blu-ray player, and video game consoles.  We let him run around the yard with Hannibal and a Frisbee for a while, then sat him down to watch a couple of movies, including _How to Train Your Dragon_.  Dean made steak, loaded baked potatoes, and grilled asparagus for dinner and brownies for dessert.  We then pulled out the pictures we had of our various loved ones and told him stories about Mom, Dad, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, and more.

The next day we took the boy to the Walmart in Eugene to get him more of what he needed.  He tried to act brash, but we could see he was almost overwhelmed by the wide array of merchandise and the fact that he could choose whatever he wanted (within reason).  He soon got bored and fidgety at picking out clothes, but his eyes nearly popped out of his head when we moved on to the toy section.  By the time we left a couple hours later, the Impala's trunk and most of the backseat were loaded down with bags of clothing, toys, games, school supplies, movies, and books, as well as bedding, towels, and décor appropriate for a boy's bedroom.  We then went home and helped him find places in his room for everything.

We were in the family room that afternoon when we heard the soft rustle of feathers.  I was on my laptop, looking up homeschooling curricula.  Dean and Alec were seated on the floor nearby figuring out a Lego _Star Wars_ playset, with Astrid “helping” by batting at the pieces.  Hannibal lay snoring on his back in front of the fireplace.

We turned toward the sound and saw Castiel, Bobby, and Jody standing in the doorway leading to the foyer.  With them were a couple of overnight bags and several large cardboard boxes.  Dean and I immediately rose and hugged our visitors, while Alec looked on curiously.

“As you can see, we figured out a way to get here that those Manticore goons ain’t gonna be able to track,” Bobby said, nodding at Cas.  “And this must be my new grandson!”

I placed a hand on Alec’s shoulder.  “Alec, these are some of the people we told you about last night, and they’re part of your family too now.  Bobby pretty much adopted us back when we were kids, so that makes him your grandfather.  Cas here is our closest friend and like a brother to us, so he’s now your uncle.  And Jody looks out for us like a big sister, so she’d be your aunt.”

Bobby crouched down and opened his arms, his eyes soft.  “Boy, but ain’t you the spitting image of your dad!  We’re glad to have you in our family, kid.  You’re gonna be _real_ happy here.”

Alec hesitantly walked forward and was enveloped in a huge hug.  This was followed by an equally heartfelt embrace from Jody.  Cas patted the boy awkwardly on the shoulder.

Alec wrinkled his nose and looked up at the seraph quizzically.  “What are you?”

“I am an angel of the Lord, child.  I too am glad you are here.  Sam and Dean are very good men, and they will do their utmost to see you are safe and loved.”  He directed a blue gaze at us.  “Speaking of his safety, I should inscribe Alec’s ribs the way I did to yours.  Given Raphael’s aspirations, it would be wise to ensure his allies cannot use the boy either.”

“You’re right, Cas.  I’ve warded him with the anti-possession symbol and other protective markings—I used sigils that are only visible to psychic vision instead of tattoos, to not draw attention from teachers or other parents.  But I can’t recreate the Enochian runes that you put on us as easily,” I responded.  “I wonder why Michael’s minions never went after him or Ben before though?”

“I do not know, Sam.  Perhaps even Zachariah and his ilk had qualms about using a child in such a way.  Or they were concerned that the limitations of an immature vessel would put Michael at a disadvantage against the Morningstar.”  Cas knelt in front of Alec.  “This will hurt very much, but just for a moment.  Afterwards however, no other angel will be able to find you.  May I proceed?”

“But I thought angels were the good guys?  Don’t they work with the Blue Lady?”

“Who is the Blue Lady?” I asked.

“A janitor at Manticore gave her picture to one of Ben’s unit mates when he was sick.  The picture was of a beautiful lady in a blue robe surrounded by glowing light.  The janitor said that she lived up there, in the Good Place, and watched over all children—even ones like us,” Alec explained earnestly.  “Ben’s unit used to give her presents, like food, flowers, even their baby teeth, so she’d be strong enough to protect us.  Some of them tried to tell other units about her, but most of the rest of us didn’t believe them.”

“I believe he is referring to the Virgin Mary.  Belief in the Blue Lady is not uncommon among disenfranchised youth, such as the street children in Miami,” Castiel said.

“Well, angels are _supposed_ to help her, kiddo.  Unfortunately, truth is most of ‘em are smug, sanctimonious asshats who think humans are just vermin, and the fuckers are willing to do _anything_ to get their own way,” Dean told Alec.  “Cas put these same wards on us a while back so they can’t find us either.”

Alec nodded at that and stepped closer to Cas.  He flinched after the angel touched him but gave no other indication of pain.  We then steered everyone towards the seating in the family, and Dean fetched beers and sodas for the group.

Jody smiled warmly at the boy.  “Like the others have said, we’re all thrilled to have you here, Alec.  I brought some of my son Owen’s things for you—clothes, toys, books, and stuff like that.  Your new dads have probably gotten you a lot already, but I’m sure you could use some more.  My son was just a couple years older than you when he died, and I thought it would be better to pass his belongings onto you than let them gather dust in my attic.  We can go through the boxes later and see what you like.”

“What are you planning to do now?” Bobby asked.

“We’re gonna keep Alec home and teach him ourselves until the end of this school year, since there’s a lotta stuff ‘bout the world outside of Manticore that he needs to learn.  We’ll say that his mom got weird after his birth and turned into a hermit, which is why he ain’t familiar with so much,” Dean explained.  “By the time September rolls around, he should be ready to go to school.  In the meantime, we’ll introduce him to the kids in the neighborhood and enroll him in sports, music lessons, or whatever else he’d like to check out.”

“Alec will initially stay home with me until my next semester starts.  After that, most days he’ll go with Dean to the garage—there’s an empty desk in Karen’s office he can use to study, and Collin’s already given his okay.  He’ll come with me once or twice a week on days when my class and teaching load is lighter,” I added.

“As for the other escapees, we’ll use the materials you brought to scry their locations.  Then we or some other trustworthy hunters will try to retrieve them, since they’re not safe out there on their own.  We’re thinking to try to place them with hunters, though only ones with a secure home, or hunter-friendly families who’d be able to deal with their unique circumstances,” I continued.

“I can assist with the location and rescue of these children, particularly the ones you cannot go after yourselves,” Castiel offered.

“Thanks, man—that’ll be a _huge_ help.  These kids ain’t gonna trust strange adults, but having someone they associate with their Blue Lady there might ease the way,” my husband said gratefully. 

“What’re we gonna do ‘bout the rest of ‘em though?  There simply ain’t enough hunters, at least ones we can trust not to shoot the kids too, to take on a whole military base—even with your powers and Cas’ renewed mojo,” Bobby pointed out.

“Not to mention there’s not enough reliable families to take that many children in,” Jody said.

“All we can do ‘bout Manticore itself right now is gather more intel.  This sorta conspiracy shit should be right up Frank’s alley, and the rest of us can try to dig up what we can too.  Maybe we’ll find a weakness we can exploit,” Dean responded.

Alec piped up, “Are you going to release the ‘nomalies too?”

“You mentioned them before.  What are they?” I asked.

“They—they’re failed experiments . . . ones where the animal traits came out too strong, so they can’t pass as human.  Or they have some other defect, like the shakes, but are too useful to just destroy.  They’re kept locked up in the lowest level of the base.  Manticore would’ve put me, Ben, and Max there too if they didn’t kill us after the tests.”  The boy shuddered.

“Them too, son—they’re just kids like you.  It’ll be harder to find safe homes for ‘em, but we’ll figure it out.”  Bobby then looked at Dean.  “By the way, Dean, I think these sonsofbitches mighta done more than simply take your DNA.  Alec here is eight years old, right?  Which would put you around twenty-three or twenty-four when he was born.  Dunno if you remember this, but a coupla months after your twenty-third birthday, right ‘bout when your deadbeat dad decided to go off on his own, I sent you to Gilette for a rare spellbook that had supposedly turned up in a pawnshop there.  The lead turned out to be bogus, and you disappeared the day after you arrived.

“I came to town to look for you a coupla days later when you didn’t return my calls, and I made that idjit John drop what he was doing and help too.  We searched for you for nearly a week, and then you suddenly showed up at our motel with some cockamamie story ‘bout shacking up with a girl.  John left as soon as he knew you were safe to go back to his hunt for the demon, but I wasn’t satisfied.  But before I could dig any further, we both got pulled into a series of drawn-out cases, and I musta forgot after that.”

Dean furrowed his brow.  “I vaguely remember the girl, but the details are real hazy, even for it being nine years ago.  You think those douchebags lured me near their fucking hideout and then grabbed me?  For what—more experiments?”

“I figure that bastard Lydecker got hold of your blood or spit somehow, and the scientists at Manticore flipped out when they tested it.  So they fed me that false info, and maybe did the same with some of our other contacts at the time, hoping you’d take the bait so they could find out what you are,” the older hunter replied.  “I think the only reason they let you go is me and your dad were raising too much of a stink, flashing our FBI badges, interrogating everyone, and poking our noses into everything.  They musta been afraid either we’d track them down or attract the wrong kinda attention on them.  So they dumped you after putting some sorta whammy on your memory.”

“The X4’s,” Alec said.  “They were the series before us X5’s, and many of them had psychic abilities.  One of them could’ve altered your memories, and even made so that you weren’t interested in investigating more.”

Bobby went on, “My point is, we dunno how much information they got outta you while you were their ‘guest.’  We’ve gotta assume that they know whatever you did back then ‘bout your abilities, the supernatural, and hunters.  We also dunno how many shifter genes they spliced into the other X5’s, not just Alec and his twin—things like your accelerated healing, enhanced senses, enhanced physical traits, and telepathy would’ve been mighty attractive.”

“And we don’t know what kind of resources Manticore can bring to bear to track the escapees down, so we need to be extra careful.  Alec’s and the other kids’ whereabouts are on a need-to-know basis, and we must be _very_ selective in who we bring in on this.  Frank’s going to send us some untraceable burner phones, and they will be the _only_ ones we use to exchange information about any of this,” I said.

Jody looked worried.  “Are you going to be safe here?”

“Don’t worry, Jody.  If they knew ‘bout our lives here, they woulda tried coming after me earlier, when Ben first starting having problems.  With all the moving around, aliases, and supposed deaths, I doubt Manticore had any more luck keeping tabs on me after they let me go than the damn FBI did when Hendrickson was on our asses,” my brother responded.  “That being said, we’re gonna up the security around here as much as we can and watch our backs.”

I stood.  “Alright folks, that’s enough for now.  The point of this visit is for Alec to get to know more of his new family, right?  So why don’t we all take Hannibal down to the park and relax for a while?”

***

We’d just finished decimating the feast we’d picked up from the Chinese takeout place on our way back from the park when Bobby asked, “So are you boys planning to keep hunting now or not?”

“We’re not sure yet, Bobby.  Alec is of course our first priority, but we’re still going to try to take on a few cases now and then.  We just have to be careful about what we tackle,” I said.  “But if it turns out that even this limited amount of hunting interferes with our ability to care for him or puts him at risk, then we’ll pull out for good.”

“Yeah, we ain’t putting our kid through the same shit that we had to grow up with,” Dean added.  “If we can’t hunt, we can find other ways to keep helping people.”

The older man beamed at us.  “I’m real proud of the both of you.  I’d always wished that your damn fool dad had paid more attention to your well-being than his revenge, and I’ve regretted not doing more when you were kids.  But you still managed to turn out great and to find a life outside of hunting as well.  I know you’ll do a fantastic job raising your son.”

Dean looked down in embarrassment, and I had to clear the lump from my throat before saying, “Thanks, man.  That means a lot to the both of us.  And we couldn’t have made it to here without you, so don’t knock what you did for us.”

After clearing away the food, we went through the things Jody had brought to see what Alec could use.  Dean sat everyone down so that Alec could watch _A New Hope_ for the first time, and then the boy was sent off to bed.  The rest of us stayed up for a while longer, drinking and reminiscing, until Bobby and Jody finally retired to their room.  Cas promised to return in a day or two before disappearing with a rustle.

Dean put the drinks away and turned off the lights in the rest of the house, while I checked that the defenses around the property were active.  We then went to our bedroom and quietly washed up.  I locked the door and set up a privacy spell to prevent noise from escaping the room as I waited for my husband to finish his shower.  The blowjobs this morning had been just a teaser, and I planned to take advantage of this time to ourselves.

When he emerged from the bathroom, I was propped up on some pillows in the middle of the bed, slowly stroking my member.  His eyes lit up at the sight, and he gave me a slow smile as he climbed onto the foot of the bed and crawled towards me with sinuous grace.  He nudged my knees apart and slid his hands up the inside of my thighs to my groin, then bent down and wrapped his full pink lips around my glans.

I moaned as he sucked at the head of my cock and ran his tongue along its underside.  He suckled it like a lollipop for a bit before swallowing my shaft down to the base.  I dug my hands into his soft blond hair while he hummed _The Rain Song_ and swirled his tongue around my length.  As my passion approached its peak, he pulled his mouth away, shifted until he was sitting above me, and sheathed himself around me.

I had to concentrate to not climax immediately as Dean’s tight heat enveloped me.  Instead I rolled us over and looked down into his long-lashed green eyes, taking a moment to revel in the knowledge that this wonderful, beautiful man was all mine.  He wrapped his legs around my waist, and I began to plunge into his slick channel with long, steady strokes.  He keened and pushed his hips back into mine as each thrust brushed against his prostate.

 _Oh yeah, baby, you feel so good!_ he gasped.  _Love you inside me . . . love_ you _, Sammy!_

 _C’mon, Dee!  I don’t want to cum until you do,_ I growled while leaning down to capture his lips.  _Want to see you cum on my cock, sweetheart.  Love you so much too!_

We continued to move together until his breathing started to hitch.  I then drove into him hard and fast, and he cried out as he ejaculated onto his belly and clenched around my member.  I thrust into his velvety channel a couple more times before falling into orgasm myself.  We both collapsed back against the pillows with our arms still wrapped around each other.

 _How are you feeling, darling?_ my lover asked while laying his head on my shoulder.

 _Really good, Dee.  Although . . . I was hoping we were finally_ done _with massive plots after stopping the Apocalypse.  And yet here we are, dealing with this Manticore shit now,_ I complained as I felt his chest vibrate against mine and his inner walls quiver around my cock.

 _Hey, at least the world ain’t in danger of getting flushed down the shitter this time.  This problem ain’t anything supernatural, just people being major-league fucking douchebags,_ he pointed out _.  Like I said years before—demons I get, but people are crazy!_

 _That might make this even more dangerous, man.  Demons rarely are as organized as the U.S. military or have the same level of resources.  And there’ll be a lot of things we’d normally do against demons that we_ can’t _against humans._

 _There’s still plenty we_ can _do, and those Manticore asshats ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em.  We’ll figure this out like we’ve figured out Lucifer, Azazel, and the rest of those fuckers.  But right now, I’m gonna get us cleaned up._  

Dean stretched languidly, pulled himself free, and headed into the bathroom.  When he returned a few minutes later, he was clad in a clean pair of boxer-briefs and a t-shirt.  He wiped me down with a damp washcloth and handed me a pair of boxers and an undershirt.

“We can’t lie around butt-naked any more, in case the rugrat decides to pay us a visit,” he said with a smirk.  “I don’t wanna be responsible for the therapy bills if he gets traumatized by the sight of your monster cock.”

I gave him an unamused glare as I slid the boxers on.  “You aren’t anywhere close to as funny as you think you are, jerk.”

“I’m fucking hilarious, bitch!” he proclaimed while slipping under the covers.

“You keep thinking that, dude.  Although that does remind me . . .”  I reached out with my mind, dropped the privacy spell, and turned the lock on the door before getting comfortable again.

I’d just pulled the comforter up when the door opened and Alec peered in.  “Dad, Papa, can I—can I come in?”

“Of course, Alec,” I answered.  “What’s up?”

He approached the bed hesitantly.  “Can I sleep with you tonight?  I’m still not used to having a room all to myself.  Yesterday I was tired enough to fall asleep anyway, but now . . .”

Dean lifted the covers up in response and dropped them after Alec crawled in between us.  Once the boy was settled in, my brother ruffled his hair and put an arm around his shoulders.  “I remember . . . the first Dean used to do this sometimes with Mom and Dad.  You like this, kiddo?”

“Yeah, Dad, this is pretty awesome!  Back at the barracks, we weren’t supposed to share beds or hug each other or stuff like that.  I guess they thought it would make us soft.”

“That’s all in the past now.  Whenever you want a hug or a cuddle or any kind of affection, you can come to either of us,” I told him.

“And we’re going to stop Manticore?”

“You bet!  It’s gonna take a while—we first gotta gather intel and find reinforcements before we can come up with a plan.  But we’ve taken down bigger fish than those asswipes before,” Dean said.

Before the child could say anything more, there was a thump, and then the door opened again.  Hannibal bounded into the room, with Astrid scampering close behind him.  The puppy jumped up onto the bed, and it took some nudging to convince him to sprawl across the foot of the bed instead of on top of us.  The kitten, with typical feline disregard for personal space, walked across us and curled up on Alec’s stomach.

In the midst of all this maneuvering, Dean looked at me and laughed.  “Dude, we’re gonna need a bigger boat!”

Eventually the chaos cleared away, and everyone else started to drift off.  I gazed across the bed at the shapeshifter who was my brother, partner, and husband, at the genetically engineered super soldier who was now our son, at our pet hellhound and pet _skogkatt_ , all slumbering under the roof of our enchanted, formerly haunted house.  I thought back to my desperate dreams when I was a teenager and realized that I finally had everything I desired back then.  _This_ was my normal, apple-pie life, and I couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this wraps up Part 4 of this series! I certainly wasn't expecting this story to end up the size of a small novel! I knew from the beginning that I wanted to start with the wedding and end with Alec, hitting certain milestones--honeymoon, house hunt, first Christmas together, etc.--along the way. As the story progressed, certain milestones took longer than anticipated, and new ones were added. So here we are, twenty-five chapters later. I hope everyone has enjoyed the boys' journey so far.
> 
> Part 5, Family Doesn't Start There Either, will pick up with more of Alec's story and how the Winchesters deal with Manticore and with some of the plot points from Season 6 (altered to fit with the changes to canon I've made). Unfortunately, there will be a hiatus before Part 5 starts posting. Between the surgeries and holidays, I've barely started on the story, and I'd like to have a buffer of at least 4-5 chapters written before I begin posting here. If you want to be notified when Part 5 begins updating, I would recommend subscribing to the series, if you haven't already. In the meantime, I have a couple other stories I started working on a while back--I find it's helpful for me to work on something else whenever I hit a writer's block on my main project. I'll start posting those works over the next week or so. If you'd like to be notified about when those start, you can subscribe to my user profile. 
> 
> So as I said before, I hope you've enjoyed reading this story and will continue to enjoy my other stories. Constructive criticism or suggestions are always welcome, and comments and kudos make me a happy author. :)


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